Exile
by Mirrordance
Summary: Concluded! Legolas is exiled as a murder suspect. Aragorn goes out into the wild. Two warriors cross paths and embark on an adventure as one seeks to escape his past, the other to reclaim it. How Aragorn & Legolas met.
1. Chapter 1

Author: Mirrordance

Title: Exile 

Summary: An elf is exiled as a suspect to his own brother's murder.  A young king goes out into the Wild.  Two warriors cross paths and embark on a common adventure as one seeks to escape his past and the other to reclaim it.  How Aragorn and Legolas met.

PART 1

* * *

Western Outskirts of Mirkwood

3011

* * *

      The two riders pulled their horses from their carefree trot to an easy halt along the banks of a shallow river.  From the near distance they heard the roar of a fierce waterfall, though here against the shallows, the sounds of water maneuvering across the multitude of rocks that peppered its rippled surface was predominant and soothing.  It filled that part of the forest with its calming melody, accompanied by the rustle of the waning, rusted leaves with the first of winter's breezes.

      One of the riders—a dark featured human with burning eyes—dismounted first, and assisted his companion, an old man, from his steed.

      "Thank you, Strider," the old man smiled, lending youth and fire to his wise eyes and weathered face.

      The younger man smiled back, and it tamed his curious, predator's eyes.  "I shall refill the skins.  And our horses can rest awhile."

      "I must admit," said the old man, "The road was long and hard and I fear I may need some resting of my own.  I'm quite tired."  
      "It seldom ever seems so, Gandalf," said Strider, securing the horses upon a nearby tree and removing his packs from the saddle and laying them on the ground.  He did the same with Gandalf's horse, and took the water skins from the packs, before squatting next to the water's edge and filling them.

      _Three, two, one_.

      It was at this moment that a blur of a form descended upon his horse from the tree it was tied to, slashed at the ropes that held it in place in one breath, and flew away with it in the next.

      Wide-eyed, Strider dropped the skins to the ground, and ran towards Gandalf's horse, neighing and agitated from the theft of its companion.

      "I'll be back shortly," Strider told the old man, his quick fingers deftly untying the ropes that secured the horse to the tree, just before he vanished in a spur of movement and the fading, harsh pounding of horse's hooves in hot pursuit.

      The old man stooped to gather the filled water skins, then sat down against a tree and contemplatively lit his pipe.

      "Happy hunting, Strider," he murmured to himself, smiling slightly.

* * *

      Legolas looked over his shoulder to find the strangely adept human gaining on him.  Annoyed, he murmured at his stolen horse to move more quickly.  It neighed disapprovingly in response; it was almost as strange as its human master, uniquely intelligent and exceptionally loyal for a steed.  Elves found little trouble wooing horses, but this one had a hard head and seemed intent on following no one other than its master.  It took Legolas all his charm and skill in handling to have even gotten this far, and it was almost too much to ask for this horse to move more quickly and evade and betray its own master.

      "Halt!" the human yelled, and Legolas of course ignored him.

      ~Halt!~ the human yelled again, this time in the elf's own tongue, and it piqued even more at his curiosity, this strange human who spoke his language.

      In moments, the human was riding harshly directly alongside him, their legs almost touching.  Legolas' brows furrowed in confusion when the human spoke in a fluent string of Elvish, trying to calm his horse and get him to stop and disobey the thief.

      "Hya!" Legolas exclaimed, pushing the horse harder, urging him forward.  But the human matched him pace by pace, jump by jump as their horses rode alongside each other, dodging branches, leaping over gaps on the ground and over fallen logs.

      "Leave me be!" Legolas yelled to his pursuer, frustrated when it became apparent that he would not be able to shake him free anytime soon, and the horses were tiring from the fierce ride.

      "Isn't that too much to ask," the human exclaimed breathlessly, disbelieving, "from someone you had just stolen from?!"

      It was, and the observation was almost absurdly funny, so the elf didn't bother to retort anything back.  Instead, Legolas glanced at the rider to get a better look at him.  His sight rested upon the human's face in time to see his eyes widen in surprise.

      "Branch!" the human yelled, and he and the elf stooped low upon their own horses, missing a low-hanging branch by a hair.  It could have killed them on impact, riding at the mad pace that they did.

      The elf looked behind him at the close call, and was puzzled over why the human would warn him about the danger, it being that he was supposedly just a lowly thief.  It was in the middle of this contemplation that he felt the impact of the man in question against his body, the human diving towards him from his horse, and the two of them landing hard on the ground at a roll with the force of his assault.

      Yelping at the pain of the impact and caught by surprise over the maneuver and its complete and _utter_ **madness**, Legolas was soon bested, the human straddling him against the ground.  Both of them were breathless and aching, but they held each other's glare coolly.

      "Why bother saving me from the branch," asked Legolas wryly, breaking the taut silence, "If you were planning on breaking my neck anyway?"  
      "You were distracted shortly after," Strider replied, sharing the elf's dry humor with his dancing but cautious eyes, "I merely took advantage of an opportune instant."

      Legolas turned his head towards the direction from which they came.  The pounding of the horse hooves were vanishing in the near distance.

      "Now you lost two horses instead of one," he pointed out, "you should have just let me take it."  
      "They know their way back to me," the human said confidently, eyeing the elf, measuring, "If you wanted a ride so badly, perhaps you should have just asked."

      "Can I have your horse then?" Legolas asked, pretending to be obtusely naïve.

      "No," laughed the human, surprised at the other's audacity, "I meant asked for a ride or some such thing."

      They held each other's gazes for a moment more, before the human sighed and rose to his feet, stepping back from the elf and offering him his hand to rise as well.  Gamely, Legolas took it, but instead of using it to pull himself up, he pulled the human down and swung at his long legs, effectively tripping him and sending him crashing to the floor.

      Strider grunted in dismay at the impact of his back to the ground, but he chuckled and said, "You're pretty petty for an elf."

      Legolas sneered at him—_also very much unlike an elf_!--and gained his feet on his own.  He hesitated a moment before offering the human his hand to aid him in turn.

      "Of course you're suspicious," sighed Strider, taking the proffered hand and rising, "You know what they say, you shouldn't do to others what you do not want them to do to yourself."

      Legolas pulled his hand away from the human's warm, wide and rough palms.  These were the hands of a warrior, he noted, and the long sword fastened to his side was also an indication of the same, for he carried it casually and comfortably.  He looked strong, and steady, but also light of heart. His eyes were wise but humorous, one among his multitude of curious contradictions that made for one of the most intriguing beings the elf, for all his thousands of years of living, had ever come upon.

      Strider was measuring the thief as well, finding that he had a grace and beauty that was exceptional, even for an elf.  There was even something strangely noble and familiar about him, though Strider attributed this to the fact that in more ways than one, most elves did tend to look alike.  He was lavishly attired as they oft were, with the colors of his layered tunics a salute to the woodlands, except his garb seemed earthier, older, much-used.  He had an intricate bow and a quiver healthily stocked behind him, and a pair of sheathed daggers, complimenting his warrior's stance.  Unlike his kin, however, he had restless, intense eyes that defied the usual complacency of the elves, and Strider had come upon a lot of them to know.  Perhaps he was young, Strider reasoned, though his eyes also held a wisdom that defied youth.

      "My name is Strider," the human said.

      "I know, I heard the old man call you thus," the elf said, seeing little point in the introduction if they were soon to part ways.  Besides, he was suddenly embarrassed at the civility, for he had, after all, just finished attempting to steal from the man.  He took to punishment better than kindness, because it was easier to comprehend.  Hurriedly, he looked about him.  "Well.  I suppose I'd best get going."  
      "Perhaps you are going our way," said Strider, "You may want to ride with us awhile."  
      "You don't have horses any more than I," pointed out Legolas.

      "I did say they would find their way back to me, did I not?" asked Strider, "I promise they will.  And then we can all ride off to where we are all going."

      "I wouldn't count on them returning to you," Legolas said coolly, finding a direction he desired and began to step towards it, "These woods are wide and winding, not to mention filled with creatures of ill-will.  They will most likely be lost or killed.  _I_ would know."

      Strider detected some aching bitterness there that begged for prodding and all at once dared it and vowed to spurn it.  So he held his tongue instead.

      "Your way back would be towards that road," Legolas said coolly, though it was obvious he said so because he felt guilty and responsible for the misfortune he now shared with the human, pointing towards the opposite of the direction he meant to go.  Strider wondered if it was intentional.

      "I know to follow our horse tracks," Strider said, "but thank you for the advice."

      "I wouldn't rely on them," said the elf, "the first of the snow will fall in a few hours and we rode long and hard such that it may take you more the better part of a day to walk back to where you had left your old friend." 

      He began to walk away, the human watching his back curiously, and even with more interest when he heard the elf say "I'm sorry" quietly and belatedly, before vanishing into the wood.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	2. Chapter 2

Author: Mirrordance

Title: Exile 

Summary: An elf is exiled as a suspect to his own brother's murder.  A young king goes out into the Wild.  Two warriors cross paths and embark on a common adventure as one seeks to escape his past and the other to reclaim it.  How Aragorn and Legolas met.

* * *

PART 2

      He had heard these stories, about the ghost of a slain prince lamenting the loss of his kingdom and his innocence, with his hauntingly beautiful voice echoing across the woodlands in a song that broke the heart and brought tears to the eyes, ensnaring the strangers who dared step in the midst of his kingdom of loneliness and be just as lost as he within it.   There was also a host of other woodland ghosts, these great and lost lovers and spellbinding enchantresses.  

      One hears a lot of crazy stories along the road, and most often they began from a grain of strange truth.  While it was easy enough to push them into the back of one's mind most of the time, the loneliness of this particular road was starting to lend them an eerie reality, and it was a feeling Strider did not particularly welcome.

      The sun had long since set, though the clouds were yet to dim completely with the coming of the night, lending the Earth a casting of strange, luminous but painfully dull violet.  It made the world stand still, and alongside the windy breezes that have long since quieted and became a stale coldness that refused to leave, it made for a rather lonely evening indeed.  A lonely, eternal evening.  It was so easy to sink into despair, especially when the first flakes of snow began to fall, and obscure the trail he had been following.

_      At least I've not been ravaged by wolves_… _yet_.

      Determinedly, the human pulled his coats tighter against his body to retain warmth.  He was never one to despair.  He was never one to fear.  And tonight would not be the first time for him to have either of the two.  

      In the midst of strengthening his convictions, he heard a familiar and dreaded growl, and decided this must not be his best day _at all_.

      His hand instinctively seeking his sword, he ceased to walk and lowered his stance, just as a pack of wolves emerged like drifting ghosts from the edges of the trees, surrounding him hungrily.

* * *

      The odds were bad, but he was a man who knew _only_ to move forward.  And though this day was strange and much different from all the other days he had spent of his life, _he_ was unchanging, and he would fight.

      Now, in the midst of strengthening _this_ condition, he heard the whistle of an arrow strike at the neck of a wolf that had been so stunned it made no sound except for the dull thumping of its dead body against the ground.

      Suddenly feeling vulnerable, the rest of the pack growled and tensed, the hairs on the backs of their necks rising menacingly and looking toward him in accusation, and he had the strange and gnawing desire to say _It__ wasn't me_!  It was almost comical, until they showed their fangs…

      Another arrow struck another wolf, and it too fell to the ground without even so much as a sigh.  The marksman was perfectly accurate and true, and the wolves knew that now it was they who were being hunted.  Discouraged, they growled at Strider one more time before scurrying away.

      Looking around him cautiously, Strider said nothing to will his helper forward, for whoever he was, they now both knew he was out there, somewhere.  And if Strider's guess was correct, this strangely passionate elven thief needed no prodding, and had to learn to step forward on his own.  

      Sure enough, he appeared from the edges of the wood, looking like a ghost in a manner that was very much like that of the wolves that preceded him.  His pallid face was partly hidden in shadow, his pale hair shining and whipping gracefully behind him, his steps unrealistically quiet, and the snow stirring about him and seemingly through him, his presence not disturbing anything, as if he was mostly not there at all.

      Strider felt a smile spread across his face.  "You are a most interesting thief, Master Elf.  The strangest one I've ever come across.  To say the very, _very_ least."

      The elf frowned, seemingly displeased over the entire situation.  But he said nothing.

      "And how long have you been following me?" asked Strider, though he had a very good idea, "'Til we 'parted,' would I be correct? You have the most discreet steps.  I am seldom ever caught unawares, even by elves.  You have an exceptional way about you."

      _In more ways than one_, Strider thought, tilting his head at the elf and wondering about who he was, and how he had come to be in his situation.  Elves were not a very isolated lot, and often moved about in their quiet, elite circles.  This was the only time he had come upon one of them so alone, and seemingly so restless.

      "Thank you for your aid," Strider said, when it was apparent the elf could find nothing to say yet. 

      "Do not flatter yourself," the elf said coolly, finding the opening he needed for a more antagonistic retort, "I did not do it for you."

      "And for whom was the act of saving my life done then?" Strider inquired.

      "For me," the elf replied, as if it were so simple to understand, "Your loss would not have been one that I would be proud of myself for, human.  And in these woods, all that one has are one's memories and regrets, and I already have much of the latter."

      "I see," Strider nodded, "Well.  I suppose this means I would not be making the rest of my journey back to the shallows alone.  I also see that there is little purpose on you hanging back and hiding, or all the pretense of parting, if you are to follow and aid me anyway.  Do you?"  
      "You are presumptuous," the elf said, but stepped towards Strider anyway, "Maybe I would want to flank you instead just to spare myself from your impossible company."

      "Maybe," Strider indulged him magnanimously, but said nothing else when they began to walk together, side by side.

* * *

      "Would you happen to have a name?" Strider asked along the length of their road.

      Legolas hesitated, before he replied a semblance of the truth.  The human had these binding eyes that actively defied any form of deception, making the elf wonder if this mere man here perhaps possessed a strange power of his own.

      "Lesandro," he replied, reverently borrowing his dead brother's name before commenting, "Strider doesn't sound like a real name."

      "It is," Strider insisted, "In its own way."

      ~You are a strange man,~ Legolas said, watching the human's face as he switched tongues, finding quick, instinctive comprehension in the other's eyes, one that he suspected was there, but still had to see for certain.  This man spoke elvish as comfortably and fluently as he, and it was a wonder indeed.

      ~You are pondering over my speech,~ Strider observed, ~I grew up amongst elves.  A pair of these mad, elven brothers.  Which means I also know a lot of curse words and bad jokes and lewd things.~

      "I beg you keep them to yourself," Legolas said wryly, though his heart envied the easy endearment he had detected in Strider's tone.  How could a human find so much comfort with his kin and he, who shared all the best of them, was here, their _exile_, cut off, forgotten—

      "Whatever you are thinking," Strider said, feigning an offhanded attitude as he watched his companion's expression darken, "I hope it is not about me."

      "I wouldn't be so optimistic," the elf said dryly, his tone lightening as his face had, though his eyes housed his grieves and angers constant, even if they were temporarily held at bay.

      "You're pretty strange yourself," Strider pointed out cautiously, "I've not met any isolationist elves before.  Are you nomadic? Or are you very plainly lost?"

      "I am very plainly lost," Legolas replied, a hard-edged smile slashing across his features as if he remembered a sick joke that only he understood, "Just not in the way that you think."

      "To where are you headed?" Strider asked, "My companion and I, we came from the East and are headed towards… well, we are headed towards a lot of places.  But right now, the closest stop is Rivendell.  Perhaps one of these places is your own destination."

      "Are you really just so… kind?" Legolas asked, confused and frustrated, "Or trusting? One wonders how you lived this long in times like these! Or are you pulling me into some sort of a scheme?"

      "I am only being practical," reasoned Strider, "I've met many strangers in my travels.  You would be surprised at how many more kind, drifting hearts there are along the road, just looking to go somewhere.  And I do not fear that my kindness will eventually take me to a knife sticking out of my back, Lesandro.  I can defend myself well enough.  And besides… one owes much to the one who saved one's life."

      "Which would not have been in danger in the first place if not for me!" argued Legolas.

      "Well perhaps I don't owe you anything after all, then," teased Strider, "And you can walk all the way to the Shire for all I care."

      Legolas' eyes narrowed in irritation, changed the subject altogether.  "What brought you here?"

      "Searching for a little ghoul by the name of Gollum," replied Strider, "We came from Gondor and searched along the edges of Mordor and made our way up northeast.  We searched high and low all across Rhovanion to no avail.  Mirkwood was the last stop and we even had some of your kin to aid us, by the kindness of King Thranduil.  We have been searching for this Gollum for the better part of two years.  We were just leaving Mirkwood on our way to Rivendell as a temporary respite until we can once again begin another search, when you suddenly happened by.  Perhaps the gods have put our paths together for a reason and you can help us in this after all?"

      "I'm sorry I could not help you," Legolas said, "I am absolutely certain I did not come across him."

      "Why is that?" asked Strider.

      The elf hesitated.  "I've… I've not come across anyone in a bit of a while."

      _A bit of a while_ sounded like years to Strider's knowing ear, but he said nothing of it, unwilling to gamble the truce he felt they now had between them, this fragile opening towards each other. 

      "Well he is bound to turn up," Strider said instead.

      "One little being in all these lands," mused Legolas, "You are madly hopeful."

      "So I've been told," grinned Strider.

      They walked in silence for awhile, the elf weighing his thoughts until he knew he could not keep himself from asking the things that were plaguing his mind any longer.

      "You said you had come across the King of Mirkwood," he said suddenly, trying to keep his voice in check, if not his mind.

      "King Thranduil, yes," answered Strider, "What of him?"

      "How does he fare?" Legolas asked, his heart aching for his estranged father.

      "The dangers that rise here in the East are undoubtedly a bother," replied Strider, "but he is a formidable being.  I do not doubt his people are in the right hands," he paused, glancing at the elf's pensive appearance, "Why ask?"

      "I just wondered," Legolas lied, "He was my King after all."

      Strider's brows furrowed, noting the tone, noting the anguish in the other's burning eyes, recalling how the elf had seemed familiar to him even at the very onset.  And then, he put things together in his mind and decided to gamble, this time.  

      "You have your father's eyes."

      He felt the elf stiffen beside him, and saw the said eyes blaze up at the audacity, at the gall and nerve, at the invasion.  But the elf barely missed a beat, and his voice sounded calm when he replied, so calm it was almost bitterly frigid.

      "I've been told as much," he said, and they would say naught else for hours afterward.

TO BE CONTINUED


	3. Chapter 3

Author: Mirrordance

Title: Exile 

Summary: An elf is exiled as a suspect to his own brother's murder.  A young king goes out into the Wild.  Two warriors cross paths and embark on a common adventure as one seeks to escape his past and the other to reclaim it.  How Aragorn and Legolas met.

* * *

PART 3

      It was deep in the night, and they have walked long without ceasing.  The quiet, discreet elf maneuvered the forest knowingly and almost absently, as if he understood the entirety of it leaf by leaf, step by step.  Strider let him move a pace ahead, just the slightest step to the front to lead the way, and he never hesitated.  If he knew the human was relying solely on his senses for direction, he made no mention of it.  Then again, he never really made mention of much.

      At least, not since Strider basically told him he knew the elf was in the royal line of Mirkwood.  Probably even its crown prince.  Yet here he was, like an exile.  

      _Like me_.

      There was a story here that begged to be told.  Strider had met the King of Mirkwood, and met his only son and heir Legardo, who looked a bit younger than this elven horse thief, and of whom the thief did not inquire.  But if he were indeed the crown prince of Mirkwood, why flee his own kingdom? Why be so alone?

      Strider felt his companion's warm hand enclose around his arm, keeping him from taking another step forward.  He did as he was wordlessly told, and strained his senses to hear whatever it was that would occupy the elf's mind and be the cause for so much caution.

      The two of them stood still for countless moments, and Strider relaxed only after the elf released his arm and started forward again, exhaling in relief.

      "What was that?" Strider asked in a lowered voice.

      "Orc patrols in the near distance," the elf replied, after a pause so long that Strider had almost given up on him.  He seemed to hesitate, as if he were wondering if he were obliged to answer, or deciding if he was inclined to.

      "I was considering perhaps slightly altering our direction but they moved away," he added, "Mirkwood's soldiers are spread too thinly across these lands.  These patrols can get too close for comfort, already so entrenched is the enemy in their stronghold South."

      "Dol Guldur," said Strider, "Yes.  My companion and I, we made sure to move around it on our way here from the outskirts of Mordor."

      "Your companion is not an ordinary man, is he?" asked Legolas, "At first I thought I would steal from you, this harmless human and his even more harmless old friend.  But I began to track you, and he had a little smile on his face."

      "He understands much," Strider said, "But these are for him to know and ours to discover.  I may not have known you were upon us, but I would not be surprised if he did."

      "Istari," Legolas concluded, after a moment of consideration.

      "Yes," Strider replied, "That he is."

      "You keep strange company," the elf commented, and felt the human's wry glance, pointedly looking at him.

      "I meant the old man," Legolas clarified, clearing his throat.

      "It cuts both ways, though," Strider said impishly.

      The elf blinked and kept his eyes on the road before him, but the human did not miss the slight quirking of his lips.

      "Ah, he does smile," the human commented.

      The elf said nothing, though his hand drifted absently up to his cheek, as if he were wondering if he was indeed doing as the human had said.  It was a strange sensation, for it was one he had not felt in awhile.  He composed himself and looked at Strider wryly.

      "You must be very cleverly funny then."

      "I sure like to think so," Strider smirked.

      They walked in silence again, and Strider could not understand if it was the comfortable kind or the uncomfortable kind, or perhaps a comfortable silence that was made uncomfortable by the fact that it really wasn't supposed to be comfortable in the first place.  His brows furrowed.  His head ached.  Now he understood much less because he had successfully confused himself.

      _Strange_, he thought.  His mind was flying and light, easily distracted.  The world was duller, its lines meshed blending one shape to the next, seemingly less real.  _What's happening to me?,_ he wondered, almost amused.

      Legolas glanced at his temporarily distracted companion dubiously, and then up at the dark skies, and the snow that fell insistently around them.  The trees were leafless this season, and the branches stretched over his head in crooked, empty arms that soared and reached high but seemed to grasp at nothing.  He disliked the winter for its quiet, death-like sleep, and loved it only for the greater vivacity its comparison lent to the following spring.

      "Perhaps we should rest awhile," he suggested.

      "I would," said Strider, "But I worry for my old friend."

      "I will never have a fear for the Istari," said Legolas, "They can easily fend for themselves."

      Strider considered.  Why would the elf be so insistent? Elves don't tire, and though he himself was hideously worn out from his years of searching and the long journey that had directly preceded this one, he was sure he made little or no indication of it or that the elf would probably not have cared much if he was weary anyway.

      "All right," he said finally, "I suppose it won't hurt him to wait a bit longer."

      The elf nodded, and changed directions just slightly.  They walked just a few paces and descended a gently-sloping hill, along the side of which was a small cave.  It was obvious to the Ranger's eyes of Strider that this was as much of a home as the elf had in this forest.  There was a lived-in warmth to it, and there were a few of his personal belongings smattered about.

      "An elf in a cave," Strider marveled, "You are constantly a surprise."

      The elf just smirked at him, and they each found a corner to settle in.  Strider was more than happy to get off his feet after so long.  He smiled indulgently in relief, and glanced at the strange elf who sat a pace away from him.

      "Get some sleep," the elf insisted, "You are safe here."

      The human narrowed his eyes in thought, pondering his options, before nodding and settling down more comfortably.  He felt the elf looking away from him, probably in an attempt to make him feel more at ease although he still felt the other's edgy watchfulness.

      Strider did not sleep at once, but soon stayed so still and looked greatly at peace that after awhile, the elf most definitely believed he did.  Glancing at the human cautiously, he lifted his left pant leg and unlaced his boots, wincing at the old pain from his long-sore ankle, an injury he had acquired from the time the insane human had jumped them both off their respective horses.  Sure enough, it was badly swollen, and he reached for some snow near to the cave's opening and put them against his ankle, the cold soon numbing the pain.

      Strider watched through slit eyes, watching the elf tend to his injury in the dim light. 

      _So this is why you wanted to stop_, Strider concluded, marveling at the elf's endurance, and pricked by his dangerously high pride and ultimate stupidity for listening to it.  But he admired his spirit more than anything, and decided to let him keep the farce he had worked so hard to keep.

      _Who are you_, Strider wondered as he began to nod off towards sleep at last, _What__ are you doing here?_

      As if the elf was hearing his thoughts, his head shot up to look at the human.  But by then, Strider's eyes had already closed, this time no longer feigning sleep.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	4. Chapter 4

Author: Mirrordance

Title: Exile 

Summary: An elf is exiled as a suspect to his own brother's murder.  A young king goes out into the Wild.  Two warriors cross paths and embark on a common adventure as one seeks to escape his past and the other to reclaim it.  How Aragorn and Legolas met.

* * *

PART 4

      Strider's eyes snapped open when he felt the cool, smooth hands of his elven companion tighten about his face, right over his mouth.  His heart pounded furiously and he struggled with the final clutches of his sleep-induced confusion, trying to calm himself before his warrior's instincts lashed out in defense.

      ~Do not make a sound,~ Legolas said to him in a low voice, ~There is danger afoot.~

      The elf felt the human relax slightly, and watched as his eyes registered sense and awareness.  Taking this as a safe cue, Legolas removed his hand from the human's curiously warm face and concentrated on the orcs he had heard mulling about outside.   

      It did not take long for Strider to hear their heavy footfalls too, and the distant, weighted pounding soon became sharper scurries as they came nearer to the opening of the tiny cave.

      The two warriors tensed as a pair of thick, orc legs became visible from the cave's mouth.  

      _Too close_, Strider thought, his fingers twining about his trusty sword in the very likelihood of a confrontation.  He did not like their odds at all; an injured elf and a weary human backed up against a tiny cave against a healthy patrol of blood-thirsty orcs…

      He glanced at the elf, wondering what he was thinking.  But he was much like his kin in the face of danger, face devoid of emotions other than steely cold determination.

      When the orc stooped and peered into the cave, Legolas pulled it inward by the side of its head, and slid a white dagger across its neck.  It did not even have a chance to cry out or grunt.  Its body didn't even fall dully to the ground, for the elf caught it and hid it with them in the cave, its stench filling the small space instantly.

      "It's a scout," Strider said quietly as he pulled its heavy legs inward, hiding it completely.  Legolas in turn covered the bloodied ground by snow with his hands.  Then the two of them sat tensely in wait again.

      Another pair of legs appeared in their line of vision.  It was saying something in its own speech, probably looking for his companion.  It was also sniffing at the air, and the slain orc's blood was hard to miss.

      As its predecessor did, this orc stooped and peered into the cave too, and Legolas and Strider did as they had before, except it now made for a crowd inside the small cave, two full grown men and a pair of orc corpses.

      "What now?" Strider grunted, smiling wryly at the elf, "We can't fit all of them in here."

      "Do you have a better plan?" Legolas asked him gamely.

      "I don't like being backed into a corner with a pair of corpses," said Strider.

      "I suppose you want to fight them in the open," Legolas mused, "All right."

      Maneuvering around their first kills, the elf and human crawled from their hiding place and readied their stances.  They barely had a breath of peace before an arrow whistled between them, and they dodged it cleanly.

      Legolas drew his bow and shot an arrow in the direction from which the first strike came.  He knew his opponent fell with its dying screech and thump to the ground.  But it was just a minor victory, and he had to turn his attention to the other orcs that sprung from the woodworks.

      The battle turned close-contact in moments, and he holstered his bow and turned to his twin white blades.  Covering his back keenly was the human, his sword singing reassuringly.  Stroke by stroke the man's opponents fell, and those who were not killed scurried away, probably for cover of the deeper woods because the sun was beginning to shine.  The two of them soon found themselves the only ones standing.

      Coolly, the human wiped at his sword, surveying his surroundings cautiously.  The elf, on the other hand, busied himself with retrieving his used arrow.

      "How economical of you," Strider commented, following the elf and looking over his shoulder.

      "Each one counts," Legolas said, pulling the arrow from the dead orc's eye.

      "Good shot."

      Legolas glanced up at the human, and nodded towards his own set of easy kills.  "You are not bad either.  You are very comfortable with your sword."

      "One must be," said Strider, "In times like these."

      The two made their way back to the cave's mouth, though they made no move to enter it.  They merely stood before it pensively, and in Strider's eye, the elf almost looked to be saying goodbye to a strange old friend.

      "I was leaving anyway," he said quietly, turning away from the cave and beginning to march on, "And I never much liked caves."  
      

      _Except for that one,_ must have been the wordless conclusion to the statement.  But Strider said nothing of it, as he had been saying nothing of all the things that begged to be asked, and said.

* * *

      They walked on, the elf not showing any signs of his injury from the day before, making Strider wonder if what he had witnessed in the night was just some kind of a dream…

      And speaking of dreams… the elf was wide awake when he slept and again when he stirred awake, and Strider wondered if he had even slept at all.  He, on the other hand, seemed to have slept for ages.  Either he was truly unbelievably tired, or he felt particularly reassured by the other's presence.  Perhaps it was both.  Either way, the sun seemed to be struggling to shine through the grayness of the winter sky and its thick, ominous clouds by now.  Dull as all things looked in this dim light, it was light nonetheless and he found he had slept into a new day.

      "How was your rest?" Strider asked.

      "It was fine," replied the elf, "Though I am certain yours was much better.  Your snoring disrupted the night."

      "You lie!" laughed Strider.

      The elf's dancing eyes widened, feigning truthfulness that was a lost effort to the laughing human.  

      "Terrible!" Strider commented, shaking his head, "Terrible liar."

      "On the contrary," said Legolas, turning more serious at a not-too-distant and hardly pleasant recollection, "I've been told I am quite good at it."

      Strider caught the change in mood easily, and matched his seriousness.  "Lying is different from keeping your feelings hidden, Lesandro.  Of the latter you are undoubtedly good."

      Legolas' brows furrowed, "But nothing much gets past you, Strider.  You seem to be able to tell things very quickly."

      "Well I suppose," Strider considered, "I grew up with elves and I know for a fact my physical prowess is limited in comparison.  I had to compensate.  I am really rather proud to say I'm much cleverer than my brothers."

      "I wouldn't be surprised," Legolas agreed.

      "Have you ever met a human other than me before?" Strider asked.

      "A few," replied Legolas, "Well not met.  But I've come across them.  What of it?"

      "I just wondered," said Strider, "Here, in Mirkwood?"

      "No," said Legolas, "Our Realm is generally avoided.  And also highly protected, it does not encourage visits or trade.  I've seen a few in all my journeys with my brother and with a friend of mine.  I met one in Bree, and sighted one in Imladris."

      Strider's eyes widened, "Imladris, you say?"

      "Yes," replied Legolas, "I bore a message from my father to its Lord.  It was a very long time ago.  Before you were born, without a doubt."

      "Were you friends with Lord Elrond's children then?" asked Strider, curious.  He had, after all, grown up in Imladris and never heard of Lesandro.

      "Loosely," replied Legolas, evasive, even as he corrected his first answer, "We used to be."

      Strider wondered what that meant, and he was on the brink of asking when the elf frowned, saying, "The winds are getting harder.  I am suddenly regretting the loss of our shelter.  I feel a storm coming."

      "I suppose we should hurry on," said Strider, "My companion."

      "I know," said Legolas, removing his coat, "Can you pick up the pace, human?"

      "Oh don't slow yourself down on my account," said Strider wryly, wondering what the elf was doing.

      "I am quite serious," said Legolas, "I noticed this morn that your face was warm."

      "I can't see what one has to do with the other," confessed Strider.

      "Are you ill?" Legolas asked him, not bothering to mince his words, "I've heard it happens."

      "I am just weary," Strider said, "my road was long," he winced, "It still is."

      "And your warm face?" prodded Legolas.

      "Perhaps you've just not held a human before," Strider said, though his weariness and fleeting attention was beginning to make more sense.

      Legolas looked at him skeptically, thrust the coat his way.  "Take it."

      Strider shook his head, "I have one, thank you."

      "I have no need of it," Legolas insisted, "We handle the cold much better."

      "Well I am fine," Strider said stubbornly, beginning to feel embarrassed, "Truly.  You needn't."

      "Listen," said Legolas, making his tone colder, trying to incite the human's logic rather than offering him a kindness that the elf knew would humiliate him to accept, "I would rather have you carrying my coat, than me carrying your slack, heavy human body in case you fall on your face."

      Strider frowned, taking the coat, annoyed.  "Crudely put."

      Though when he slipped the coat on, he did feel much better, and he let the issue rest.  

      "Thank you," he said belatedly, now embarrassed over having rejected the offer in the first place.

      "You're welcome," Legolas said, leading the way.  The embarrassment of the human was one that he understood well and therefore wanted to soothe.  His own warrior's way was to keep his weaknesses hidden, as he was doing now.  He initially meant to let the human keep his pride; after all, fevers were oft more uncomfortable than harmful.  But the situation has changed and the coming blizzard and their quicker pace upped the stakes, and he would not gamble the human's life for his stubbornness.

      They trudged on, Strider ensconced in the coats that smelled of wind and trees, curiously subtly scented with leaves in a forest already devoid of it at the heart of winter.  

      "The coat smells of you," Strider commented.

      "Are you complaining?" the elf asked, genuinely insulted.

      "I didn't say it was a bad thing," Strider clarified, "Only that it does."

      "I see," Legolas said, glancing at the human worriedly.

      "Don't look at me like that," sighed Strider.

      Legolas did as he was told, kept his eyes on the road.  Though he said he would pick up his pace and get them to the Istari sooner, he slowed somewhat, worried for his companion.  It was not lost on the human, who decided he would take the lead and _show_ the blasted elf how a human can still get things done.  Shaking his head in dismay, Legolas decided to quicken his pace; there was no convincing the stubborn human to do otherwise, so they might as well just get to wherever it is they're going quickly.

      Suddenly though, the human seemed to remember something and slowed his pace, this time lagging behind the elf.  Concerned, the elf slowed down too, and walked alongside him cautiously, ready for any eventuality.

      Legolas couldn't have known it, but Strider remembered the elf's injury, and decided he would slow down for the elf's sake, even as the elf decided he would slow down for the ailing human's sake.

      They both said nothing for an hour, maybe two, and the wordless game went on, until Strider began to chuckle at the ridiculousness of the situation.

      "You're delirious," Legolas said, aghast.

      "On the contrary," said Strider, "I see things more clearly than you do."

      "Perhaps we should rest awhile," the elf suggested.

      "Yes, of course," winked Strider, "As much for me as for your ankle."

      Legolas' eyes narrowed and he pursed his lips, comprehending the situation at last.  "Well.  As you said.  Don't slow yourself on my account."

TO BE CONTINUED…


	5. Chapter 5

Author: Mirrordance

Title: Exile 

Summary: An elf is exiled as a suspect to his own brother's murder.  A young king goes out into the Wild.  Two warriors cross paths and embark on a common adventure as one seeks to escape his past and the other to reclaim it.  How Aragorn and Legolas met.

* * *

PART 5

      As the winds picked up, both warriors found they had little else to laugh about.  Though the trees lent them shelter from the harshest of assaults, it was still enough to significantly hamper their journey, the winds heavy and moving against them.  

      Strider worried for the wizard he had left; howling winds like these were harsher in the clearings, as it must be where Gandalf was, where the trees were thinner and the line of the forest broke against the riverbanks.  He trudged on, his determination lending strength to a weary body that screamed for rest.

      "We are near," his companion said to him for the nth time, as if in reassurance.  Although… Strider wondered if the reassurance was for him or the elf himself, who seemed to be at the edge of panic.  His face was a carefully composed guise of cool indifference, his voice even and modulated.  But his eyes held a strange fear that Strider couldn't completely comprehend, though he detected it clearly.

      _Do you fear for me?_ he wondered, knowing the answer but not quite knowing why.

      "Do I look that bad?" Strider teased.

      He watched from the corner of his eyes as the elf's lips quirked into a harried smile that quickly vanished as he at last voiced his fears.

      "A bit."

      "I'm not just going to drop dead here, I promise," Strider reassured him.

      "Well it happens, doesn't it?" asked Legolas.

      "It's been known to," Strider admitted, "but not to me.  It is just a fever.  Humans have them every once in awhile."

      "I know," Legolas said, though he still sounded hesitant.

      "It's more unglamorous than dangerous," Strider added jokingly.

      "I know," Legolas said again, still very serious, unable to join his humor.

      "You don't sound at all convinced," Strider commented.

      "I'm not," Legolas said with a wince and then added coolly, belatedly, remembering he was supposed to be distancing himself from this strange human, "But why should I have a care."

      "I don't know," said Strider wryly, sniffing, "Why do you?"

      "Who said I did?" snapped the elf.

      "It needs no saying," the human said confidently.

      "You really are presumptuous," the elf declared.  
      "And you," teased Strider, "really are pretentious."

      The elf glared at him, said nothing.  Besides, it already was embarrassingly plain to see between the two of them that he was irrationally blowing hot and cold, as if he was struggling with himself.  It was actually rather kind of the human to point it out so lightly.  But it was undoubtedly an issue that was not light to the elf _at all_.  Why does he have a care anyway? Was this strange man so likeable? Or had he been so alone for so long…?

      The moved on, and along this road, the human coughed, and stumbled.  It was the elf's quick reflexes that brought his hand upon Strider's arm and kept him upright.  But it was his battling heart that let it linger there.

      The tell-tale moment was not lost to Strider, even with his muddled mind and severe exhaustion.  The elf's grip upon his arm slackened but stayed, and he knew decisions were being made.  

      Will the walls the lonely elf built around himself fall around his feet at last? Who would he find underneath it all, after so long in bitter isolation? 

      _Never mind_, the elf said to himself, focusing on the situation.  The silly human could very well fall flat on his face soon without his help.  He was here, they had traveled together this far, he might as well, all implications of what in the world his decision could mean cast away.

      He couldn't have known it then but it was answer enough, and it would change his life forever.

      His grip tightened about the human's arm, as surely as his resolve strengthened, and he now blatantly gave his aid without hesitation; he never was one to do things halfway.  It will stay there for as long as they journeyed, for as long as it was needed.  The only time it left was when it soon became apparent the man, in his worsening illness, needed more.  Wordlessly, the elf twined the human's arm about his shoulders and supported him by the waist.

      It was a strange and curious warmth that he felt when Strider murmured "Thank you."

* * *

      He stepped from the woodworks to find the old man looking at him expectantly, not seeming surprised at all.

      "Hello," Gandalf greeted him over the din of the wind, stepping forward a bit crookedly, as if his years were weighing heavily upon him.  He stooped forward to have a look at the ailing Strider, who had lost consciousness quite awhile ago.

      "He has a fever," Legolas said tentatively, watching the wizard with some suspicion.

      "It's long been coming," said Gandalf, touching the human's face gently, "He has been working himself to the ground.  Stubborn, stubborn."

      "He needs to be away from this cursed weather," Legolas added, glancing about them, finding no real shelter.  What he found, however, made his brow furrow in confusion.  

      _They know their way back to me_, the blasted human had said and sure enough, the confounded beasts were lashed quite securely against an old tree.

      _Why couldn't have they gone back to him where they fell_?, he sighed, profoundly annoyed, his anger pricked almost as much as his battered ankle was smarting.

      "I see you are once again eyeing our horses with interest," Gandalf said, his aged eyes teasing.

      "I do not plan to steal them again if that is what you mean," Legolas said dryly, "I suppose they are well rested by now.  You ought take Strider away from here."

      Gandalf pursed his lips.  Seemed to be mulling over the situation.  

      "I suppose he and I can share a horse," said Gandalf, "And I can aid him that way.  Keep him warm, keep him from falling.  But ah… as you can see, I am not as young as you."

      Legolas frowned.  "What are you saying?"

      "I'm not saying anything," the old wizard blinked innocently, handing his staff to the elf and poising to relieve him of the human's weight.  He shuffled about, his robes rustling against the snow.  He stumbled once, and the elf caught him by the elbow cleanly.  Legolas looked profoundly displeased to now be saddled with two _invalids_.

      "I'm sorry," Gandalf smiled at him apologetically, "As I said, I am not as young as you."

      "But are you as old as all of this?" snapped Legolas, exasperated.  Was it a trick? The old man looked too wily to be… well, _old_.

      "I just need some help getting us both upon the horse," Gandalf said, regaining his balance and taking his staff from the elf, apparently giving up on trying to take the human's weight, "And perhaps you will end up with one of our horses after all, if Strider and I share a mount.  I'm sure he will not mind giving his horse to one as kind as you."

      "Well he sure fought hard to keep that from happening," Legolas said hesitantly, his eyes darting from Gandalf to the horses, feeling strangely trapped.  The unnatural warmth of the human beside him kept him similarly anchored to his conscience.

      "He said you were on your way to Rivendell," Legolas said tentatively, "I suppose I could aid and accompany you to its borders."

      "Oh you would do that, boy?" Gandalf smiled, "It is rather gracious of you."

      Legolas stared at him suspiciously for a moment, before turning his attention towards getting Strider and himself upon the horse he tried to steal earlier.  Beside him, the wizard mounted his own steed cleanly and swiftly.  

      He raised an inquiring eyebrow at the suddenly youthful Istari, who simply smiled at him.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	6. Chapter 6

Author: Mirrordance

Title: Exile 

Summary: An elf is exiled as a suspect to his own brother's murder.  A young king goes out into the Wild.  Two warriors cross paths and embark on a common adventure as one seeks to escape his past and the other to reclaim it.  How Aragorn and Legolas met.

* * *

PART 6

      "I told you they'd be back," Strider drawled, in the middle of their horse ride, and it was the first thing he said in hours such that as weary as it may have sounded, Legolas welcomed it wholeheartedly.  

      "No," argued Legolas, "You said they know their way back to you.  There's a significant difference."

      "Gandalf?" Strider inquired blearily.

      "He is well," replied Legolas, glancing at the wizard he was riding alongside of, "He was wily enough to have convinced me to journey with you through to Rivendell."

      "I resent that!" exclaimed the wizard, "Strider, the elf refuses to believe I am old and weary."

      "I would too," smiled the human, before slipping back to sleep.

      "He is getting warmer and warmer," Legolas murmured to the wizard, tightening his hold about the human.

      Gandalf glanced over their heads, upon the storm that was waning but still somewhat strong, and upon their road which was still undoubtedly long.

      "We stop for the nearest shelter that we find," he decided.

* * *

      They found a small cave, and Legolas dismounted his horse first, murmuring at the beast in Elvish, asking it to keep still for its ailing master.  Gandalf positioned his own horse beside the human's and held him in place, kept him from falling as the elf ensured that the shelter was safe.

      Straining his senses at the cave's mouth, he decided it was appropriate enough.  It was dank, yes, but far better than the bitter cold and biting winds from which they were coming.  Best of all, it was empty, and at this point, he considered it a blessing.  The human had taken to muttering strange words in his fever dreams, and the elf would have happily tolerated sharing a cave with a dwarf if it meant getting Strider out of the cold.

      Legolas strode to the horses and helped the ailing man dismount.  He was muttering in Elvish, and it almost made Legolas smile; Strider was more elf than human!

      ~I'm sorry,~ Strider said as Legolas helped him into the cave.  The elf looked at the human after settling him down on the ground, wondering if the man was talking to him and not the figures in his delirium.  He determined that Strider had indeed awakened, his glassy eyes focused on the elf.

      ~Now you awaken,~ Legolas teased him, ~when all the work is done.  You _should_ be sorry.~

      ~Why do you do the things you do?~ Strider asked him, ignoring his jest, determined to stay serious and ask all the things he's been curbing his tongue for, his eyes boring straight to the very core of the elf's hiding soul.

      ~I don't know,~ Legolas admitted, finding no heart to lie anymore.  He turned away from Strider, as much to avoid his eyes as to take the water skin Gandalf offered him.  He pressed it to the man's lips, let him drink a little, before he slipped back again into sleep.

      Legolas watched him for a quiet moment, not quite knowing what to do with him, or for that matter he didn't seem to even know what to do with his own self.  He ran his hands wearily over his face, before remembering the wizard was there.  He turned towards Gandalf, who was staring at him.

      Mask restored, Legolas held the old man's gaze coolly, embarrassed to have let down his guard so easily.  

      "You have a gentle way about you yet," the wizard said, patting him by the shoulder, before busying himself with starting a warming fire.

      Legolas watched him work, his spindly hands adroit.  His brows furrowed as he contemplated the situation.

      "We have long been taught that the Istari never appear places at random," he said, "That there is a purpose to all that you say and do."

      "Which makes me no different from you," said Gandalf, winking at him before returning to work.

      The elf hesitated for a moment, before going to the old wizard and helping him.  "You know what I mean.  Why am I here?"

      "Because you decided to," replied Gandalf cryptically, as the wood burst into flame and lit and warmed the cave.  He smiled in pleasure, "Ahh.  Much better."

      "Do you know who I am?" Legolas asked, eying him closely.

      "I only know you for what I see," said the wizard, "Restless, and embattled.  But I think you have a kind heart." 

      Legolas glanced at the human, sleeping soundly in the corner.  "And who is he?"

      "Some secrets are not mine to tell," said Gandalf, "Suffice to say he is… well, a lot like you."

      Legolas looked away, towards the cave's opening.  "The storm will pass in a few hours.  Will he be strong enough for more travel by then?"

      "I hope so," said Gandalf, "We are already much delayed as it is.  His family will worry.  We sent them word we will be by.  Knowing Lord Elrond and his sons, they may have begun searching for us by now."  
      Legolas' brows furrowed.  "His family?"

      "Yes," said Gandalf, "He grew up in Imladris."

      "He said you were headed that way," Legolas murmured, thoughtful, "But I had no idea…"

      "Oh," Gandalf said, "Well.  Now you know."

      "Lord Elrond and his sons will be searching for you, you say?" Legolas asked, seemingly agitated.

      "I should think so," replied Gandalf, "What of it?"

      "I cannot be found with you," Legolas said distractedly, thinking of his options, _I cannot be found_, _period_.

      "But did you not say you would travel with us to the borders of Rivendell?" Gandalf inquired.

      "The borders," clarified Legolas, "I never thought its very Lords and soldiers would reach past their own lair in search of you.  I cannot be found.  I cannot."

      Gandalf's eyes narrowed as he looked the elf over.  He was indeed a rare one, with a lot of secrets.  But those were his to tell, and in his own time.  

      "What do you intend to do?" Gandalf asked.

      "I must leave," Legolas said, taking a step towards the mouth of the cave.

      "Immediately?" Gandalf asked, stating the painfully obvious.

      "I cannot take the chance," Legolas said, "Tell Strider," he paused, hesitated.  "I'm not quite sure," he admitted, "Tell him goodbye.  And I hope you find whatever you are looking for."

      _I hope you do too_, Gandalf thought, watching as the elf threw a last lingering look at the sleeping Strider, before stepping out into the cold storm.  Gandalf stared at his retreating back, a shadow in the dim light of the struggling day, vanishing in the near distance.  He knew they would see each other again.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	7. Chapter 7

Author: Mirrordance

Title: Exile 

Summary: An elf is exiled as a suspect to his own brother's murder.  A young king goes out into the Wild.  Two warriors cross paths and embark on a common adventure as one seeks to escape his past and the other to reclaim it.  How Aragorn and Legolas met.

* * *

PART 7

      "At least he was gracious enough not to have taken any of the horses this time," Strider jested when he awoke hours and hours later to find the elf gone, and yet Gandalf could see very clearly from his eyes that he was pricked over having been left behind.

      "Who is the curious elf anyway?" Gandalf inquired.

      "Lesandro," replied Strider, trying to keep his annoyance in check, "a prince of Mirkwood who has an aversion to attachments.  As you may have noticed firsthand."

      "You seem upset," Gandalf pointed out.

      Strider frowned, contemplated lying for a moment before deciding against standing up to the old wizard's prying eyes.  "I suppose... he seemed rather lonely.  I wanted to know who he was.  And I haven't had the chance to really thank him," his hands brushed at the elf's coat about his shoulders, "or return this.  The cursed fool went out on the storm without a coat.  He's an elf, for the Valar's sake, it does not mean he has the hides of an oliphuant."

      "I told him Lord Elrond and your brothers must be out looking for you now," said Gandalf, "and he did not wish to be found."

      "Strange," murmured Strider, stifling a cough, "they used to be friends.  I suppose I could always ask Elladan and Elrohir when we see each other."

      Gandalf reached over to touch the man's forehead, which was noticeably cooler.  "It seems your rest did you good."

      "Which is more than I can say for the fool," said Strider, still intent on the elf who had left, "Did you know he was hurt? And he is out there, and without a coat!"

      "If you are strong enough to be this angry," smiled Gandalf, "You are strong enough to toil along the rest of our road."

      "I am not angry," said Strider, raising an eyebrow, "I just have a rather low tolerance for stupidity."

      "I am sure he knows what he is doing," soothed Gandalf.

      Strider bit his lip in thought, shook his head in annoyance and tried to calm his voice, "I'm sorry my friend.  He just seemed so alone.  And he was kind to me."

      "You cannot help everyone, Estel," said Gandalf, understanding the root of the young hero's frustrations, "Especially those who do not wish to be helped."

      "I felt he was like me," Strider confessed, "Does that make any sense to you?"

      "Yes," Gandalf replied, teasing, "He is stubborn.  Strong.  Restless.  And I think someone said stupid."

      Strider looked at him wryly, _Point taken_.

* * *

      When all that was left of the storm was lightly falling snow, and the winds have died, the wizard and Strider took to the road once more.  Strider still felt sluggish, but he was much stronger and easily handled his own steed.  The two companions traveled in silence, and the man wondered why the Istari had a strange old light in his eyes and a little smile on his face.

      "We are nearing home," Strider said, recognizing the roads, thinking perhaps it was why Gandalf would seem so happy, though he looked more knowing than joyful…

      Strider was pulled from his thoughts by the urgent pounding of horse hooves headed their way and sure enough, they were met by a sizeable contingent of Rivendell's soldiers, spearheaded by none other than Elladan himself, Strider's adoptive brother.

      The handsome elf smiled as he looked over the two riders indulgently.  "Hello there, Mithrandir.  And ahh, dearest Estel.  We were wondering what kind of trouble you may have gotten yourself into."

      "It was not a very eventful journey," Strider guaranteed him.

      "Yes, he simply has a touch of the flu," Gandalf informed the elf, before the human glossed it over, as he oft did his hurts.

      "But I am well now," argued Strider, "We were delayed because I took some rest.  I am sorry to have troubled you."

      "It keeps my life interesting," winked Elladan, "Elrohir took a different road with his own contingent.  They ought to be by soon.  We will be home in time for supper! _Ada_ will be thrilled."

      "Yes," agreed Strider, "We've not been home all together in awhile."

      "_We_ have," Elladan pointed out, "You have not.  But all is well and good for at last you are here with us.  We wish to hear tales of all your adventures, for we've only heard smatterings here and there.  Great deeds, Estel, great deeds.  But one thing the legends do not seem to point out, brother, is your single, most terrible fault."

      "What's that?" Strider asked, feeling a tease coming from the glint in Elladan's eye.

      "You do not write home enough," Elladan said wryly, he smiled and blinked, excited as he heard the coming of the other search party, "Here comes Elrohir.  I found you first.  We had a wager."

      "What was at stake?" Strider asked.

      "I've forgotten," Elladan admitted with a smile, "Well, it matters not.  I won."

      "But your victory was just a matter of luck, brother!" Elrohir exclaimed as he appeared at the head of his column, his keen elven ears picking up on the conversation even before he was in their eyeshot.  "I, however, have a rather great prize."

      The soldiers of Rivendell, Elladan, Gandalf and Strider looked behind Elrohir at the rest of his arriving group.  Elladan and his soldiers gasped, and the wizard merely looked pensive.  Strider, squinting and last to see the strange arrival, gasped.

      The contingent was rather bedraggled for a group of Rivendell's finest elven soldiers.  They had injured members sharing horses and a rather impressive array of cuts and bruises between them.  But what was most stunning was the sight of a Mirkwood elf who looked to be the cause of it all.

      Sitting atop a horse and secured by the burliest of all the elven soldiers of Elrohir's contingent was a stern-looking Lesandro, face bruised and hands bound in front of him.  His jaw was set, his expression composed though his eyes burned holes through all that he looked upon.

      _Cold_, was the first coherent thought that struck Strider, _Downright_ _frigid._

      "Elrohir!" exclaimed Strider, aghast, "What are you doing?"

      "Look who I found mulling about," replied Elrohir, "I think he was spying on Estel and Mithrandir."

      "If this was so then he didn't really do anything, did he?" snapped Strider, "Are the shackles necessary?"

      "I'm afraid you don't quite understand," clarified Elrohir, "I forgot.  You would not have known about him, you were not even born at the time.  You are looking at the elven race's most despicable fugitive," he blinked, correcting himself, "It's only one, actually."

      "Lesandro?" Strider asked, turning to the bound elf inquiringly, "What is he saying?"

      Legolas looked at him blankly, before turning away.  His eyes were like daggers to all else that he looked upon, but he avoided the one gaze that seemed to see straight through to his broken heart.

      "You are mistaken, Estel," Elladan said, confused, "This is not Lesandro.  This is Legolas, the younger brother of Lesandro, and his murderer."

TO BE CONTINUED…


	8. Chapter 8

Author: Mirrordance

Title: Exile 

Summary: An elf is exiled as a suspect to his own brother's murder.  A young king goes out into the Wild.  Two warriors cross paths and embark on a common adventure as one seeks to escape his past and the other to reclaim it.  How Aragorn and Legolas met.

* * *

PART 8

      Brows furrowed, Strider rode alongside the soldier who held Legolas towards Rivendell.  He did not quite know what to say, but he felt drawn to the solitary elf.

      "What are they saying, Lesandro?" Strider inquired in a low voice.  Elladan and Elrohir, who held point, glanced at him worriedly.

      "Do you presume I owe you an explanation?" Legolas snapped, a beat after Strider decided he was not going to reply.  The human felt as if they were back where they started, and the loss of a friend he thought he had gained gnawed at him.

      "I presume nothing," replied Strider, "But do you not owe this explanation to yourself? To clear your name? Are you a murderer?"

      "They say so, do they not?" retorted Legolas, "It must be true then."

      "Is it?" pressed Strider.

      "Lesandro was my brother," sighed Legolas, feeling the human would not back down without any sort of answer, "he died.  It was _my_ arrow to his heart.  Now you know.  Now leave me be."

* * *

      "Did you not say your journey was uneventful?" Elladan asked, standing against Strider's room's doorway with his twin, trying to coax a smile from his troubled-- _and troublesome!--_brother.

      "He said that?" murmured Elrohir, shaking his head in disapproval, "You should have known better."

      Strider looked up at them from his place on the bed after unlacing his boots.  Time seemed to have passed him by completely because he knew he started undressing quite awhile ago and was at present not even half of the way done.  His mind was distracted, wearied by the remnants of his illness and burdened by the troubles of his heart.  But he smiled a little for the sake of his brothers, though it did not—_could not_--reach his eyes.

      The twins glanced at each other worriedly and stepped into the room.  Strider watched them miserably, knowing he was now in for unwanted attention from his loving--_albeit imposing_—brothers.

      _It's just as well_, Strider thought, resigned, _I have my own questions to ask_.

      "The elf you met is Legolas," Elladan said, reading Strider's eyes easily, "The second of three sons of King Thranduil of Mirkwood.  His older brother is Lesandro, the Realm's crown prince.  Or at least he was, when he was alive.  He was killed in an orc hunt, but it was an elvish arrow that found its way to his heart.  None else was there but Legolas."

      "An accident?" asked Strider.

      "Well he certainly claimed it must have been," replied Elrohir, "but it is highly unlikely.  You've just gone and met one of the greatest warriors of the elves, Estel.  It could not have been an accident, given his skill.  And it could not have been an accident, given what was at stake.  He went and purchased for himself an entire kingdom at his beck and call, at the cost of a single arrow, the life of his brother and his own soul."

      "How well did you know him?" Strider asked, unwilling to accept such a simplistic approach to the entire dire situation, "What you say cannot be.  He is honorable and kind.  I for one could not see him committing so heinous a crime."

      "Not very well," admitted Elrohir, "We were more friends with Lesandro.  Legolas was born a few years later, he did not grow up with us though we saw him once in awhile.  Not very often, mind; Mirkwood was beginning to have greater problems with Dol Guldur and we saw less and less of its princes."

      "Then you could be wrong!" Strider concluded triumphantly.

      "But think about it, Estel," argued Elrohir, "How well do _you_ now him?"

      Elladan added insistently, before Strider could reply, "That is not all, Estel.  Are you not wondering what he is doing, roaming around freely?"

      "Exile?" Strider guessed.

      "Escape," said Elrohir gravely, "And only the guilty flee."

      "How did you come upon this dark elf anyway, Estel?" asked Elladan, "You do have a talent for finding trouble."

      "He tried to steal my horse," Strider replied grudgingly, knowing it did not sound very good at all, so he added, "And he aided me when I was ill."

      Elladan's brows furrowed, "He must be quite confused."

      "These few hundred years of isolation must have addled his brain," agreed Elrohir.

      Strider's eyes widened, "A few hundred years?"

      "Indeed," Elrohir nodded, "Lesandro's murder was quite a long time ago.  Legolas was arrested soon after.  He attempted to escape before his trial began.  And this is where it gets interesting."

      "He was pursued by a band of soldiers," said Elladan, "And they brought back a corpse that they claimed was his."

      "_Ada_ is closeted in his study trying to control the situation," said Elrohir, "Do you understand the complications of the sudden appearance of this supposedly dead elf?"

      Strider's brows furrowed, "Are you saying perhaps Legolas' escape—disguised by his 'death'—was engineered?"

      "That is what _Ada_ is considering," replied Elrohir, nodding, "And possibly arranged by none less than King Thranduil himself.  Legolas always was the King's most beloved son, the one after his own heart.  Lesandro had the mother's graciousness, but Legolas had the spirit of a King.  He was the most beautiful of them, the most intelligent, the most skilled.  Everyone always said he was meant to be the King and not his older brother.  Perhaps he took it to heart and stole this kingdom he always felt should have been his."

      "It is highly plausible that King Thranduil did not want to see his most loved son on trial for murder," said Elladan with a wince, "or worse, executed.  It's been whispered since Legolas' 'death' that the King ordered the arranging of the escape, and staged the death to spare his son.  Long have we heard of the legends of the exiled prince in hiding in the forests of his lost kingdom.  And now here he is.  Alive indeed."

      "_Ada_does not know what to do with him," said Elrohir, "Would King Thranduil want his son back to face trial and almost certain death in Mirkwood? Or would King Thranduil want him set free, for us all to pretend nothing happened? _Ada_ is composing a message to him right now, and has ordered the silence of our soldiers.  This must be kept secret until we know for certain what the King of Mirkwood desires.  He, after all, has the right to be made aware first."

      "And where is Legolas?" asked Strider.

      "Kept very much in secret," replied Elladan, "Down in the deepest of our dungeons."

* * *

      "What are you doing here?" Legolas asked, irritable.  He had sensed the human coming from his discreet, distinct footsteps as he turned a corner and appeared across the way from the dungeon's bars that separated them in more ways than one.  The elf's brows furrowed, hating the sound of his own voice, his tone, for he could not understand himself at all.  Earlier he had asked to be left alone, and when the human complied he was profoundly irritated at him.  Pushed to the _very_  bowels of Rivendell he counted on Strider to come and be a distraction, if not a comfort—_certainly not_!, he thought defensively—and now that he was here at last, Legolas was still rather irked at him.  Perhaps he was just simply irked at the _entire_ dire situation.

       He sighed, defeated by himself.  He was profoundly weary, and he ached from the beating he had taken during his arrest, on top of the ankle which was once again screaming for attention.  He sat against the far wall of his dank cell, watching the play on the conflicted man's face.

      "You do not look well," Strider said quietly.

      "You, on the other hand," pointed out Legolas sourly, "look much better all changed."

      "I should have come sooner," Strider winced, "I am sorry.  But I do not quite know what to do with you."

      "You should not have come at all, and I did not expect or want you to," Legolas lied, and it was such a painfully useless lie that he decided to change the subject and address the latter part of what Strider said, "Well.  No one seems to."

      Strider stepped as close to the bars as he could, as close to the elf as he could.  He fell to a knee, leveling his eyes at Legolas.

      "Was it an accident?" Strider asked him, not needing to expound on what 'it' was, for they both clearly knew 'it' was the killing of Lesandro.

      "I do not owe you an explanation," Legolas tried to retort arrogantly, though his eyes were anguished, and his pain won over his pride as his voice escalated, "I never should have owed anyone _any_ explanation! I did nothing! I loved my brother!"

      "You owe this to yourself," Strider said as he had before, "Offer us the truth, Legolas.  It might be best for you."

      "Who cares of the truth?" snapped Legolas, "It has long been flowing from my mouth but it is all white noise to everyone else.  Who cares of the truth against the appearance of truth? All anyone has to go by are Lesandro's body, my arrow to his heart and my word all screaming against them.  I never had a chance!"  

      "Try me," dared Strider.

      "I do not owe you—"

      "But you do," said Strider, his voice rising as he finally decided that he was, indeed, very much entitled, "You do owe me an explanation because I find I will believe what you say, if you asked me to.  And the rule is this: you _cannot_ let down the people who believe in you, _you_ are _not_ entitled to do so."

      "Your logic is distorted," said Legolas distastefully, though his heart pounded, anxious and hurting and suddenly madly hopeful that perhaps he was not as alone as he thought he was.

      "Was it an accident?" Strider asked again.

      Legolas held his gaze, icy blue eyes turbulent.

      "At first I thought so," he said softly, "but it was not.  It was not an accident.  But it was also not my hand that claimed his life.  It may have been my arrow, but it was someone else's hand."

      Strider watched him, eyes intent, expectant.  But Legolas said nothing else.   And he did not need to.  Strider heard enough to make up his mind on _exactly _what _he_ had to do.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	9. Chapter 9

Author: Mirrordance

Title: Exile 

Summary: An elf is exiled as a suspect to his own brother's murder.  A young king goes out into the Wild.  Two warriors cross paths and embark on a common adventure as one seeks to escape his past and the other to reclaim it.  How Aragorn and Legolas met.

* * *

PART 9

      He soon left, excusing himself with a grunt as he rose from his position on the floor.  Legolas watched him rise, and waited the minor eternity until he returned, wondering if it had only been minutes or if it had been hours or even days.  Time simply vanished in this wasted prison, where the sun refused to shine.  

      "Have you moved at all?" Strider asked him wryly when he returned, noticing that the elf was in the exact same position he had left him in.

      "I am not certain," Legolas admitted distractedly, watching the elves Strider returned with cautiously.  The human came back with Elrond's twins and a trio more of Rivendell's soldiers, who were all looking at him with great suspicion and wariness.

      One of the soldiers unlocked the dungeon, and stepped aside as Strider moved past him.  He was clutching a pack of herbs, and he dropped to a knee beside the bound Mirkwood elf.

      "Your injuries require attention," he said quietly, by way of explanation.

      "They will heal on their own," Legolas said, "You needn't bother."

      "Imladris will not neglect you," Elrohir said to him, "Even if you have done things in the past that merit nothing short of death."

      "Will not neglect me?" said Legolas wryly, "How ironic.  Considering it was _you_ and _your_ men who had _generously_ put me in such a state."

      Elrohir's lips quirked, appreciating the humor, "Well you should have been more cooperative."

      "I apologize," Legolas said, his voice dripping with marked sarcasm.

      Strider shook his head in dismay and amusement.  Mostly the latter.  He looked at the Mirkwood elf with his healer's eyes, and set all the healing herbs he felt he would need in front of him.

      Legolas took Strider's hands to keep him from his work, and the twins and the soldiers visibly tensed, thinking perhaps he was attacking the human.

      "I said not to bother," Legolas told Strider quietly, feeling the sudden agitation of the soldiers and pulling his bound hands away, as if stung.

      "He isn't going to do anything," Strider berated his brothers, "He's barely moving as it is."

      Elladan's jaws were set, as he watched the Mirkwood prince's face.  Their eyes met, and Legolas' stared him down coldly when he began to feel the other's pity.

      "It pays to be cautious, Estel," he told his human brother soothingly, turning away from Legolas, "You've seen what he is capable of."

      Strider took a deep breath, nodded in understanding, before turning his attention back to the Prince.  "Let me help you, all right? Stay still.  I'll be quick."

      "No thank you," Legolas said stubbornly.

      "I can get them to pin you to the wall while I work," Strider threatened.

      "I'd love to see you _all_ try," said Legolas arrogantly.

      "They happily would," Strider boldly declared.

      Legolas glared at him.  Was the human not on his side the last time he checked? 

      "I cannot allow you to show them my hurts," Legolas said coolly, "for they will most certainly use it against me when I escape this dreadful place."

      Strider rolled back his eyes.  "If I asked them not to look?"

      "I absolutely refuse to turn my back on this murderer!" Elrohir retorted.

      "We will not let his poor treatment be a reflection on this House," said Elladan, trying to soothe his brother, "or on our Father's name.  We will do as Estel asks, as the Prince of Mirkwood desires.  But you must swear on your honor, you will not do anything to harm anyone here."

      Strider looked at Legolas, eyes ablaze.  The elf said nothing, until the human poked him in the ribs and said, "Swear!"

      "Curse you!" snapped the elf in surprised annoyance, stung, for the human had skillfully located a significantly aching bruise, "All right, I swear!"

      Strider looked at his brothers and the soldiers pointedly.  "Look away."

      Grudgingly, the Rivendell elves complied.  Strider breathed deeply and began to probe at the elf's injuries.  The bruised face was more of a distraction upon Legolas' otherwise unmarred face than a worry.  But the ankle needed binding, and so did the ribs.  

      "You're giving our _ada_ quite the headache," Strider said, preoccupied as he worked, "He is sending a message to your father that you have been found."

      Legolas' head shot up, "It would be better for all if he did not."

      Strider shrugged, as he wrapped clean bandages about the elf's ankle, "Any father has the right to know."

      "Life in Mirkwood has long since moved without me," argued Legolas, "No one needs the aggravation."

      "Well it is not in my hands," said Strider, fishing the keys to Legolas' hand shackles from Elladan's pockets.

      "Estel!" Elladan retorted, profoundly disapproving.

      "How can I work on his ribs if his hands are bound, eh?" said Strider, "He gave you your word, did he not?"

      Elladan looked at his brother pointedly, with narrowed eyes.  "You know what you are doing."

      "Of course!" said Strider at once.  Elladan was beginning to see that he was up to something other than treating the injured elf, and he turned away before his perceptive brother saw any more.

      Strider unclasped the bonds and pressed closer against the elf to twine bandages around his torso.  He talked distractedly, as the sheathed daggers beneath his outermost tunic glinted against the dark of his clothes, against the dark of the room, and their cool hilts brushed Legolas' hand, so close were their proximity.

      "I wonder what the King would do when he finds out," Strider murmured, looking up at Legolas intently.  The elf's brows were furrowed, he was confused, conflicted, feeling that the human was trying to tell him something.  Strider finished binding the rib injury, but lingered close for a moment more, "Perhaps you will get that trial you fled from years and years ago."

      Legolas' heart pounded.

      "You'd try to stop all this if you could, wouldn't you?" Strider asked.

      Legolas returned his intent gaze searchingly.  

      "I would," he said softly.

      "You would do anything for it," added Strider.

      "Anything," Legolas affirmed, thinking perhaps he understood what the human was letting him—practically _asking him_—to do at last.

      "Estel…" Elrohir growled in warning, feeling something was amiss.  As he began to turn to face his human brother and the captive Mirkwood elf, Legolas moved in a blur of motion, and in a breath, two of Strider's daggers were in his hands, and the human was in his lethal embrace, the blades pressed against his throat.

      The Rivendell elves moved a beat later, quick but not quick enough.  Bows and swords were drawn and pointed his way, but Legolas was already securely ensconced behind his human shield.

      "You came in close contact with a criminal armed," Elladan scolded Strider, "You should have known better!"

      "He did know better, 'Dan," growled Elrohir, glaring at his wily human brother, "If we were really clever, we ought to either leave him in the clutches of this crazy murderer or strangle him ourselves."

      "I don't know what you're talking about!" Strider exclaimed, lying bold-faced.

      Legolas' grip tightened about him threateningly, bringing the blades ever closer to his bare, tender neck.  "Throw your weapons away, please."

TO BE CONTINUED…


	10. Chapter 10

Author: Mirrordance

Title: Exile 

Summary: An elf is exiled as a suspect to his own brother's murder.  A young king goes out into the Wild.  Two warriors cross paths and embark on a common adventure as one seeks to escape his past and the other to reclaim it.  How Aragorn and Legolas met.

* * *

PART 10

      To ensure that they would not be followed, Legolas ordered the Rivendell elves into the dungeon and made Strider lock it at knifepoint, if only for appearances sake because the hostage was a rather willing one (not to mention its mastermind as well).  Then they left the keys about an arm or so's reach away from the unhappy prisoners, to buy themselves time to flee at the same time not condemning the Rivendell elves to the prison until someone else comes along.

      "Oh, Estel, I am steaming mad at you right now!" Elladan seethed, though his eyes softened as Strider looked at him guiltily and longingly.  He sighed in resignation, asking again, "You know what you're doing?"

      "I know, 'Dan," he said softly, no longer bothering with pretenses, "I'm sorry."

      "We will try to pursue, though," said Elrohir, "You know that, do you not?  Do you understand? We still believe you are in the clutches of a crazed elf!"

      "Birds of a feather flock together, after all," Elladan could not help but point out.

      "I know," said Strider stifling a smile, "All will be well, I promise."

      Legolas tightened his arm about Strider, pulling him away, "Let us fly."

* * *

      They made their cautious way to the stables, and since the 'mad elf' was holding one of Lord Elrond's sons in hostage, they pretty much got all that they demanded.  Legolas asked for a pair of winter coats, some provisions, bows and arrows and daggers to be packed quickly, as well as a horse to share, and the release of all the other horses into the wild, to keep the soldiers from pursuit.  The horses were elven-trained and would eventually return or be found, but in the meantime it would put a significant distance between them and their pursuers.

      Herding the released horses, Strider and Legolas traveled away from the borders of Rivendell at a madman's pace, until Imladris was just a line in the distant horizon.  Legolas, seated behind Strider, relaxed significantly and slowed the horses down to a trot.  He was at a loss for words to say, so he loosened his grip on the human and pulled the horse to a stop.  The horses around them halted as well.

      He dismounted, and thrust the daggers into Strider's hands.

      "I would take a horse," Legolas said quietly, "but I fear I have taken far too much from Imladris already."

      He fastened his tunic over his bound chest; he did not get a chance to do this earlier during their flight, and though he was practically immune to the cold, it would be stupid to court it.  The snow was still falling about them in the heart of winter, and he knew it was blistering even with the ceasing of the storm.

      All their demands have been placed on a pack which one of the horses bore.  He removed its contents, handing the coats to Strider and arming himself.

      Strider dismounted, landing neatly on his feet beside the elf.  He slipped on one of the coats, and handed Legolas the other.  "You have a strangely consuming conscience for a thief," he said even as he thought, _or a murderer_.

      Legolas smiled tentatively, shook his head at the offer, "I asked for it for your sake.  You are not fully well yet.  I felt the heat from your back."

      "You need it too," Strider pointed out.

      Legolas ignored the statement, as he prepared to make the rest of his journey on foot.  "Well.  Goodbye."

      Strider's brows furrowed, "I was hoping you would take me to where you are headed for awhile.  I wish to wait until the anger of my father and brothers have dispersed.  If you do not mind, that is."

      Legolas' breath caught.  The perceptive human phrased his request as if Legolas was the one doing him a favor, when in truth it was very plainly the other way around, and it has been for quite some time now.  He looked at the man achingly, hungrily.  He did not understand, but this man was giving him, _a stranger_, his time, his kindness, his very _light_.  He blinked at the tears that sprang to his eyes, and held their burning back defiantly.

      "Estel," he said softly --_hope_-- calling him for the first time by the name he heard Elrond's twins refer to him as, "I do not mind at all."

* * *

      ~Return to your masters,~ Legolas commanded their stolen herd, patting the lead horse's flank gently, and watching as they yielded to his order, vanishing in a thunder of pounding hooves.  At Estel's insistence, they kept two for their travels, though the human was yet to discover precisely where they were going.

      "Your brothers are going to skin you alive," Legolas reminded the man.

      "I know," winked Estel, "that's why I'm here and not there, remember?"

      Legolas smiled, and it was the most gracious, disarming smile Strider had ever received from the elf thus far, or from anyone else for that matter.  There was a warmth to it, a gentleness that he had never seen before.

      "Well it is very foolish of you," the elf said primly, "As I said, you are not even fully well yet."

      "It will pass," Estel guaranteed him, waving off the issue carelessly, "So where are we headed?"

      "I'm not sure," Legolas admitted after a moment of thought.

      "Where were you headed when you tried to steal my horse?" Estel asked.

      "I wasn't sure," Legolas replied, "I merely wanted to leave Mirkwood."

      "Why?" Estel inquired.

      "I realized I've been lingering there far too long," said Legolas.

      "For your quick reflexes," Estel teased in a gentle voice, "It took you quite awhile to have figured that out.  A few hundred years, I heard.  Is that correct?"

      "It is," Legolas said softly, "I hadn't realized."

      The two warriors mounted their steeds, and for a moment just stayed still, looking about them as if their surroundings would offer them an answer.

      "Hm," said Legolas disapprovingly, "This was your plan.  Did you not think this far?"

      "Honestly?" said Estel, "No.  I did not think any further than leaving Rivendell.  As a matter of fact, I do not recall thinking any further than you actually _grasping_ my plan.  Once again, I must say, it sure took you quite awhile, _mellon_.  For a moment there, I thought I'd have to blatantly tell you, 'Legolas.  Get my knives and take me hostage.'"

      Legolas laughed, "I'm sorry.  It is madness, you have to admit."

      Estel smiled and shrugged, rewarded by the elf's musical laughter and the light that was dawning in his shining eyes, "So where will the wind take us this time, Tumbleweed?"

      "Your Elvish requires polish," Legolas said wryly, "the name means Greenleaf, my friend."

      "Ah, but the other suits you more," reasoned Estel, teasing, "Are you always just leaving places, Legolas? Are you ever actually _going_ somewhere?"

      Legolas smiled, a bit sadly this time, "It has been the case lately, I admit."

      "Well," said Estel, "decide quickly.  Wherever we are headed, we must move at once.  My brothers ride hard and quick.  They will be upon us soon."

      "Take me somewhere different," Legolas said dreamily, "I want to get away."

      Estel gave it a moment of thought, before saying, "You shouldn't just flee places, _mellon_.  Seriously.  The past has a way of catching up, you might as well stare it in the face."

      "I've tried that tack," sighed Legolas, "I've trod that path.  It is the past that turned me away."

      And yet when he urged his horse forward, Estel noticed they seemed to be headed in the general direction of Mirkwood.  He wordlessly followed the elf's lead.

      ~Did they tell you I was the one who found him?~ Legolas asked the human quietly, shifting to the language he was more comfortable with, ~One _does not_ accuse an elf of murdering his own brother if he is the one who found him wasting away in a pool of his own blood, with his eyes, his body, struggling to find a link to the world, refusing to let it go.  His eyes rested on me, and his hands held mine in a death grip as he struggled to stay, and I watched him drift away.  He died in my arms, and I held him and begged him not to leave.  And they called me his murderer.~

      Estel watched his face, but the elf was altogether in a different place in time.  He needed no more prodding to speak, because his hurts have long since fought to surface, and now flowed as if they would drown him.

      It is in this flooding of the rawest of the elf's emotions that Estel managed to begin to piece the Mirkwood prince's story together.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	11. Chapter 11

Author: Mirrordance

Title: Exile 

Summary: An elf is exiled as a suspect to his own brother's murder.  A young king goes out into the Wild.  Two warriors cross paths and embark on a common adventure as one seeks to escape his past and the other to reclaim it.  How Aragorn and Legolas met.

* * *

PART 11

* * *

_Mirkwood___

_A few hundred years past, in the 2800's_

* * *

Lesandro is dead.

_      It was not possible.  And yet he stank of the slain elf's blood.  He drowned in the sticky redness as much as he drowned in the memories of the brother he had loved so dearly._

He was a lot like mother_, he recalled, _And now gone before his time as well_._

_      He heard the rustling of his father's robes as the King entered his room.  Thranduil hesitantly stood by the doorframes, saying nothing, just watching his son with an unreadable expression in his eyes.  The younger elf was standing by his window, his dull gaze fixed upon the skies.  Thranduil prayed he would never see that emptiness in the oft spirited elf ever again, that disappointment in the world, that raw and bare anger closeted in layers of despair.  And yet, here the two of them were again.  Years ago it had been due to the death of his wife, and now the death of his eldest son.  _

_      ~Legolas,~ he said, taking a tentative step forward, effortlessly bringing the power of a monarch in his voice, ~Bless your heart, child, but you have the blood of Kings in you and you should not despair.  You will be King, now.  Your people take their strength from you.  You have to be the strongest of them all.~_

_      ~I am no King,~ said Legolas after a long moment, though some fire lit in his angry eyes, ~I was never meant to be.  Who would do this to Lesandro? He was only ever kind.~_

_      ~I cannot pretend to understand,~ admitted Thranduil, ~but I promise you we will get to the bottom of this.~_

_      ~But he is already gone,~ Legolas said, seething, ~I do not understand any of this.~_

_      Thranduil's brows furrowed.  He was about to understand less.  ~Legolas.  The arrow you drew from Lesandro's heart.  It was not an Orc's.~_

_      ~It was of Elvish make, I know,~ said Legolas._

_      ~How well do you keep track of your own?~ Thranduil asked cautiously._

_      Legolas' eyes widened.  ~What are you saying?~ he voice sinking low, even as his anger flared._

_      ~The make of it is exactly as yours,~ said Thranduil, ~made by the Realm's greatest craftsmen, carried only by the noblest of lines and the greatest of soldiers.  It came from the same stock as those that you had taken with you on your hunt this morning.~_

_      Legolas' entire body shook with his rage, his disbelief at what was being said, at his fear at all that it meant.  ~__Ada__… You know… you know I would not.  Not for any treasure, not for a kingdom… not even to save my own life.  I could not harm a hair on his head.  I love him so…~_

_      ~I know, Legolas,~ said Thranduil, ~I know.  But perhaps… perhaps an accident.  You should not fear to say so if it was, my son, I know you loved him, we all do.  But we must know--~_

_      ~It was no accident of mine,~ said Legolas, reigning in his courted royal temper, reigning in his aggravated grief, ~You have seen me at work.  It may have been my arrow, ada, but not my hand.  Not my hand!  Your doubt… in your eyes… ~ the situation was rendering him wordless, helpless, confused.  He blinked at his anguished tears, blurring his sight, ~Your eyes… your doubt…~_

_      Thranduil's own gaze turned turbulent, and his hands ached to soothe his son's hurting.  But he was also a King, and there were things that he needed to know.  Up and down the Realm whispers of murder was already spreading, and though he personally knew that Legolas would not kill his own brother, he was a leader long enough to know he was also his people's greatest servant.  Justice must be served.  And all roads were headed this way, back to his son, who had all the motives, had all the means and the skills and the evidence piled all atop of him._

_      Legolas looked away from his father, out his window where he watched the Mirkwood elves scurry about down below.  Some would glance up, meet his eyes and look away._

Their eyes_, he thought, sad and angry, _Their doubt_._

_      He held back his tears.  For the second time in his life his heart ached as if it would literally break and kill him, and he shook and shuddered, trying to contain it.  His body cried for the release of all the things he kept within, and he wondered how one could survive through so much suffering.  He was going to explode with it.  He was going to burst and vanish and perish with it._

_      He felt his father's hand upon his shoulder.  It was warm, and comforting.  But not comforting enough.  He stared at the people below, dully.  His people.  With their eyes and their doubt.  He was certainly no King of theirs.  And he was no Prince either.  He was their Demon, their stray Orc, who killed his own brother and was now reaping all that he had left behind.  He wanted to yell and scream at them that he was innocent.  He wanted to tear their staring, judging eyes out.  But he also wanted to remain himself; he did not want to be all the things they said he was._

_* * *_

_      The days progressed slowly, and he endured their staring eyes and their distrust without complaint, only with quiet hurting and the seeds of self-doubt.  _

How well do you keep track of your own?

      Perhaps it was an accident.

      You should not fear to say so if it was.

_      Over and over, the morning of the orc hunt replayed itself in his turbulent mind, as if by mere repetition answers would suddenly make themselves known.  But such maddening recurrences lent fire to his dreams and anguished imagination, melding his fears with reality, distorting his recollections, shattering his trust in himself._

Perhaps it was an accident_, he began to think, the blood of his brother still seemingly fresh on his hands, and he recalled its scent distinctly, and it only seemed more acute the more he thought perhaps all this was truly his fault.  And the more he thought so, the more did the staring, doubting eyes of his peoples burn through him, through to the deepest parts of himself._

It's my fault.

      They all know it.

      Lesandro is dead and I killed him.

_      Legolas immersed himself in his work, fervently devoting himself to the protection of their borders, trying to distract himself, trying to make up for all his faults.  He's heard it whispered that he perhaps really had lost his mind, the blood-lusting murderous prince, who thought he could buy a kingdom by slaying his brother, but could not live with the consequences.  He is mad.  He is beyond help…_

      Maybe they are right.

_      He stayed still long enough for the funeral, which was attended by representatives from Lothlorien and Rivendell.  Friends of Lesandro came, looking grave and angry, the twins of Lord Elrond of Rivendell among them.  They stood still and quiet, and would look at him once in awhile, taking in his haggard form and thinking, the rumors do not seem at all far from the truth.  He lost his mind.  He did it…_

Maybe they are right.

_      He knew his father did all that could be done to keep what would logically follow a murder from happening.  But they arrested him one evening and took him to a cell.  He followed them wordlessly, resigned to his fate.  What investigation could be done had already been done.  And all signs pointed his way._

TO BE CONTINUED…


	12. Chapter 12

Author: Mirrordance

Title: Exile 

Summary: An elf is exiled as a suspect to his own brother's murder.  A young king goes out into the Wild.  Two warriors cross paths and embark on a common adventure as one seeks to escape his past and the other to reclaim it.  How Aragorn and Legolas met.

* * *

PART 12

* * *

3011

* * *

      They made camp when night fell.  They both felt they could not risk a fire even in the frigid winter night, and simply sat close to each other, trying to share a warmth that was only too fleeting.

      Estel, as he always did, still found something to laugh about.  He coaxed a smile out of the pensive elf, saying it was comical how they were hiding from the two strongest forces in all of Middle-Earth.

      "Your brothers?" Legolas guessed gamely.

      "Well yes," smiled Estel, "but I was referring to both Elves and Orcs."

      "It is a bit like getting crushed between two rocks," Legolas admitted.

      Estel watched him from the corners of his eyes.  _And the elf has been living that way for lifetimes_.

      "What are you thinking about?" Legolas murmured, "You are looking at me with these sad eyes."

      "How do you know?" teased Estel, "Have you sprouted eyes along the side of your face?"

      "Yes."

      "I don't think so," Estel chuckled.

      They fell to a companionable silence, and the cold did not seem so bad after all.  Nor the night too dim and dark.

      "You should sleep," Legolas advised him, "It will be good for you."

      "My mind is wide awake," Estel said, "Perhaps I should take first watch.  You know… I've not seen you sleep _at all_ since we met."

      "We never need much," Legolas said.

      "You need _some_," argued Estel, "I grew up with elves so do not try to pull my leg."

      Legolas smiled, skipped the topic altogether.  "You grew up with Lord Elrond's family.  Have you met the lovely Evenstar?"

      Estel pursed his lips.  "I have."

      "I've seen her but a few times," said Legolas, "Impeccable, isn't she? Downright magical."

      "Stunning," sighed Estel.

      Legolas turned towards him, eyes growing wide and grinning at the sight of the man's red face, even in the heart of winter.  "Ha! Oh, you do reach for the stars, _mellon_.  _Estel_ indeed!"

      "Is it so unlikely?" snapped Estel, slightly offended.

      "Oh, you are fairly good looking," Legolas teased.

      Estel's lips quirked, but kept himself from smiling back.  The elf was already profoundly pleased with himself enough for finding his sore spot.

      "Your eyes are smiling," Legolas pointed out, "It is useless for you to pretend to be displeased with me."

      Estel let himself chuckle after a last effort.  "Ah, well."

      "It is less cold when one has someone to speak with," Legolas told him quietly, _when one has someone to be with_.

      "I do not know how you did it, _mellon_," said Estel, "Night after night.  Day after day.  Through hundreds of winters."

      "I had no choice," Legolas replied.

      Estel held his breath, waiting to hear more of the elf's story, for them to continue from where it was that they left off when they decided to stop for the night.

* * *

_Mirkwood__, the 2800's_

* * *

      _They knew they would have to take him by force.  And he knew they would by the strange, ominous feeling in the dank air.  One by one the familiar, smart-sounding footsteps of his regular guards faded in the distance, to be replaced by heavier, purposeful footfalls._

_      The Elf-general Caro, who had been a lifelong friend to his Father, appeared by his cell, flanked by five similarly aged and stern-looking veteran elven soldiers of the highest credentials.  He looked up at them defiantly, their presence spiking his pride, even as his mind raced over what it was they intended to do to him._

_      ~What brings you here?~ he demanded regally, unwilling to be daunted._

_      Caro's eyes narrowed.  ~Will you go with us freely?~_

_      ~Not without knowing where,~ replied Legolas, ~Or why.  And certainly not if it is not the right thing to do.~_

_      Caro glanced at his soldiers.  There was a wordless order there that was easily grasped and comprehended by his loyal subordinates.  It was the mark of their long years of service together.  And it was precisely those long years of military service and effortless coordination that the warrior's instincts of Legolas began to fear.  They could do _anything_ to him.  He was undoubtedly skilled, surpassing most elves easily, and he was younger and more sprightly.  But their number, their experience… he was Mirkwood soldier long enough to know what these legends were capable of, his father's most trusted, most skilled circle of captains and generals._

_      They unlocked his cell, stepped forward.  He braced himself for an attack—he was never one to step back._

_      With a precision perfected by years of service together, Caro and his men bested him after a quiet struggle.  He was a fighter, like his father.  And while this made way for a rather impressive gathering of bruises and hurts between Caro and his soldiers, this strengthened their resolve over what it was they had to do._

      The young elf prince must be saved, even if he did not wish to be_._

      _They bound his arms, bound his feet, bound his eyes and gagged him as he writhed and struggled.  But he would not cry out.  It was that fierce, regal pride of his.  Caro and his soldiers were not surprised.  He was also like his father in this respect.  He would not cry out.  Not for pain, not for help._

      Thranduil certainly did not cry for their help_, Caro thought, _but he does not need to.__

_      They took him away from the dungeons.  He knew this by the gradual lightening of the air, the cooling of the breeze, and the sounds of the forest as he was brought out to it after days in isolation.  It was wonderfully alive and healthily noisy, even if it was the heart of the night, quiet and still in the __Woodland__ Realm, compared to the dank dungeon from which he just came._

_      They traveled stealthily and quickly.  He felt the ground become more irregular, more thick with foliage.  They were moving away from the palace, towards the untamed woods.  _

Are they going to kill me?_ he wondered, even as his mind decided it could not be.  _They would not.  They are my father's friends.  So what are they doing?

      _They suddenly stopped.  And pushed him to his knees upon the hard ground.  It felt like a secret execution._     

      _Someone was waiting for them there.  He felt her distinct presence, which was dimly familiar.  He knew her somewhat, but not well at all.  Perhaps from his distant, distant childhood.  _

      _They took away his blindfold, and he looked up at her gracefully aged, beautiful face.  If he remembered her at all, it must have been because of those stunning eyes.  Deep-set, thoughtful, wise, profoundly unhappy eyes.  Her name was Lady Andrada.  Another old friend of his father's, though in the past centuries he heard she died in her sleep, and they say she was a wandering, heartbroken ghost._

_      ~You remember me,~ she smiled, ~We have not seen each other since you were very young.  You were lost in the woods.~_

_      Legolas looked up at her as she stepped forward, defiant, unwilling to be wooed by her disarming smile and gentle voice.  She seemed even more amused by this, and she looked at Caro, who was standing behind Legolas with a hand braced upon his shoulder, knowingly.  She also took in the appearance of the other soldiers, noting their injuries._

_      ~You had some trouble?~ she teased them, an old fire lending life to her eyes._

_      ~He was always a handful,~ Caro replied wryly._

_      She kneeled before Legolas and took his face in her hands, watching him closely.  ~You look like your father.~  She said it coolly, making him wonder if it was a good thing, for she seemed slightly miffed by it.  Caro cleared his throat, and she glared at him._

_      ~And I can tell you are like him in most other ways as well,~ she added quietly, ~A great loss for Mirkwood, that they would not have you as their King.~_

_      She drew a small vial from one of the folds of her gown.  It contained a clear red, viscous liquid and raised it to the level of his eyes, turning it in her hands, as hypnotized by it as he was._

_      ~Some say,~ she murmured distractedly, ~That death is like sleeping.  But have you ever heard of a sleep that is much like death?~_

_      He turned his face away from the vial, away from her, beginning to have an idea of what was going to be done to him here.  ~I will not take it willingly,~ he snapped vehemently._

_      ~It is not a question of whether or not you are willing, Legolas,~ she told him primly, ~But I think you will, after you hear what we have to say.~_

_      ~Why are you doing this?~ he asked, aching.  What was all this ridiculous intrigue all about and how in the world did he happen to fall right in the middle of it?_

_      ~We do this for the love of your father,~ she replied after a beat, ~And this is why you must do this as well.~_

_      ~We do not yet know who killed Lesandro,~ Caro told him, ~Perhaps it really was you.  But it could have been a number of others.  Either way, our most ambitious elves are beginning to have ideas in their heads.  Do you understand this, Legolas? They are using you against your father.~_

_      ~You already know of the rumors that have been spread about you,~ continued Andrada, ~They are constantly fed by other elves, who know that as long as he lives, Thranduil will never see your execution through.  That as long as he draws breath, Thranduil will not see you harmed.  They want the King to appear weak, and to seem as if he does not properly dispel justice.  They want to usurp him and claim the throne for themselves.~_

_      ~We do this for your father,~ said Caro, ~But we also do this for Mirkwood.  He is the best of Kings.  And with the problems ever rising in this turbulent land… no one short of him will do.~_

_      ~Who wishes to usurp my father?~ Legolas asked, stunned at the repercussions that Lesandro's death brought._

_      ~The elf-lord Sala,~ replied Andrada, ~and with Thranduil as hesitant with your trial as he has been, Sala is gathering even more support.~_

_      ~Do you think he is the one behind Lesandro's killing?~ Legolas asked, his temper brewing.  The plan was certainly an intricate one—rid the Realm of its crown prince, accuse the King's son, make the monarch appear incompetent and weak, take his throne with the support of his own people._

_      ~That we are unsure of,~ admitted Caro, ~He struck me more as a mere opportunist.  But it is also very likely.~_

_      ~Either way,~ said Andrada, ~Your death removes you completely as a lever to be used against Thranduil.  You are his sole weakness, Legolas.  If you are gone, Sala will be silenced.~_

_      ~We will say you tried to flee,~ said Caro, ~And was killed in the attempt to recover you.~_

_      ~The potion will give you the appearance of death,~ said Andrada, ~It is safe.  I swear to you I tried it myself.  It was my escape, and it shall be yours as well.~_

TO BE CONTINUED…


	13. Chapter 13

Author: Mirrordance

Title: Exile 

Summary: An elf is exiled as a suspect to his own brother's murder.  A young king goes out into the Wild.  Two warriors cross paths and embark on a common adventure as one seeks to escape his past and the other to reclaim it.  How Aragorn and Legolas met.

* * *

PART 13

* * *

_Mirkwood__, the 2800's_

* * *

_      Legolas looked at the potion, and it now held more temptation than threat, more promise than pain.  _

_      ~What were you escaping from?~ he asked her quietly._

_      ~Your father,~ she replied ruefully, making him wonder why, though she changed the subject altogether, ~Will you take it now?~_

I could save my father_, he thought, _I can save Mirkwood,_ before suddenly realizing, ~He does not know of this, does he?~_

_      ~Would he allow it if he knew?~ Caro asked him back, ~He will not lose you.  And he will not hide you, or himself and his judgment from Sala or any who oppose him.  He is stubborn.  It is best this way.~_

_      ~He would think I died as well,~ Legolas murmured, remembering his father's sad, quiet eyes and his monarch's voice and King's resolve, just days ago._

      ~Legolas,~ he had said, ~Bless your heart, child, but you have the blood of Kings in you and you should not despair.  You will be King, now.  Your people will take their strength from you in times like these.  You have to be the strongest of them all.~

      _Ada_ is the strongest of them all_, Legolas thought, _he will weather it.  He will not know it, but I shall purchase his kingdom for him with my life.  They need him more than they need me.  They need him more than he needs me.__

_      Caro removed the binds from his hands.  Andrada offered him the vial.  _

_      ~You will wake in a week,~ she told him quietly, ~I will be waiting for you.~_

_      He didn't say it, because he was never one to quit.  But he wondered why in all of Arda they did not offer him a potion that would completely end his life, instead of simply simulating his death.  It was the one true escape, and a most tempting road to take.  But it was not his way._

_      ~There is one battle yet that I know is no longer mine,~ he told Caro, as he removed the top of the vial, preparing to drink it, ~Find Lesandro's killer.~_

_      Caro looked at him determinedly, ~I will work on it until I find him, or until my breath stills.~_

_      ~We all will,~ Andrada promised._

_      He nodded at them, and took the entire vial in a single gulp.  He fell to Andrada's waiting arms just as he heard the scurries of the soldiers, summoning others and calling for reinforcements saying, ~The prisoner has escaped!~_

* * *

3011

* * *

      "And you've lived in the forests since," said Estel, awed.

      "Andrada was good company," Legolas said, "But she fled from me too, after she made sure I could stand on my own.  She set out to be alone, after all."

      "Why is that?" Estel asked.

      "She never told me," replied Legolas, "But I think she was in love with _ada_," he smiled a little, "Sides of my father I never knew."

      "What of this potion?" inquired Estel, "I suppose it worked as it should have, unless you my friend are a ghost at this very moment?"

      "Andrada's own concoction," said Legolas, "Caro was aware she was alive, even if _ada_ was not.  I think _he_ was in love with her.  He came to her with his plan to save me, our father, and our kingdom."

      "Whatever became of their promise to pursue your brother's killers?" Estel asked.

      "I do not know," admitted Legolas, "And I've been longing to.  More so since I met you, and began to speak of it.  But dare I stare at the past once again?"

      "Take it before it takes you," Estel said wistfully, "Is this why the wind and our feet are taking us back to your forest, Tumbleweed?"

      "Perhaps," Legolas conceded.

      "Well you shouldn't have escaped from Rivendell after all," said Estel wryly, "if we are headed that way anyways.  Do you always like taking the hard road?"

      "No," smiled Legolas, "But I like taking _my_ road, at _my own_ time."

      "Well I wish you told me," teased Estel, "Then at least I would not be in as much trouble as I am with my brothers."

* * *

      Estel convinced the elf to sleep, and knew it was a measure of his exhaustion that he eventually succumbed to the man's wishes.  As Estel took the first watch of the night, he played with Legolas' situation in his mind.

      An interesting past it was indeed.  The embattled crown prince of Mirkwood, too long an exile, now moving towards reclaiming his kingdom.  It will pit him against the Rivendell soldiers who were hard on their heels.  It will pit him against the orcs that, while not knowledgeable of the situation, still presented a very potent threat along their road.  It will also pit him against his own people, who believed he was a criminal.

      _And you say it is I who is madly hopeful_, Estel thought, almost fondly.  The situation seemed downright impossible, and yet it reminded him of his own, _We__ are truly brothers in fate, then_.

      ~At least you have me,~ Estel teased the sleeping elf quietly, ~Your friend is with you, Legolas.~  

      The elf did not stir, even if he was awake.  He wouldn't have known what to say.  All he knew was that his heart soared as he heard it, but he knew it days and days ago.

* * *

      When Legolas woke, he found to his great displeasure that the stubborn human ensconced him in the warmth of one of the coats, and that though the sun was hiding behind the darker clouds of winter, it was a new day.  This was profoundly unacceptable on several levels; first, he was displeased that he hadn't noticed the coat and the human's doings when he slept, second, he slept much too long!, and third, the cursed coat was never meant for him and was the man not aware that he was sick?!

      "Whatever you are thinking," Estel said, watching his face, "I hope it is not about me."

      "I wouldn't be so optimistic," the elf said, but he smiled because they said the same things days ago and it all felt so different.  Even in the dire situation, the world suddenly seemed full of possibilities…

      And then he frowned.  The wily human distracted him from his concerns.  He pulled the coat away from his body and shoved it Estel's way.  "You are sick and did not go to sleep, you might as well stay the least bit warmer."

      Estel shook his head, amused.  He took the coat so as not to court any more of the elf's arguments.  "I will take it to ease your mind.  But you ought to know I am fine and well on my way to complete recovery."

      "You should have woken me," Legolas reprimanded him, gathering his belongings about him to prepare to continue with their journey.

      Estel shrugged, "You looked at peace.  I hated to disturb you.  I am rested, you needn't worry."

      They had some of the provisions for a light breakfast, before mounting their horses towards the road ahead.

      "Have you thought about what you are going to do when you get there?" Estel asked as they urged their horses forward.

      "Some," Legolas said, "but not concretely.  Perhaps that is why I slept well."

      "Are we taking the front door?" asked Estel wryly, "surely you've thought that far at least."

      "For now, I prefer stealth," said Legolas, "You and I… we shall have a chat with Lord Sala.  And he shall have a chat with a long-dead ghost.  I've heard it said that criminals are more truthful in the face of death."

      "And if he is Lesandro's murderer?" Estel asked.

      "Than he will pay dearly for it," replied Legolas, hesitantly adding, "I would fear more if he was not."

      "Why is that?" Estel asked.

      "Because it really truly could have been me after all," said Legolas quietly.

      "Or someone else whom we have not thought of," Estel pointed out.

      "I do not know who else it could be," Legolas said pensively, "Lesandro was extremely well-loved.  He was like our mother.  He was gracious, and kind."

      "But it is not a question of disliking him," said Estel, "as much as it is a question of who gains by his death, and by your persecution."

      Legolas frowned.  "I can think of only—"

      He cut himself off, suddenly alert to his surroundings.  Estel knew by the look on the elf's face that as of the moment, more pressing matters had to be dealt with.  

      "Steel yourself, Estel," said Legolas, drawing his bow, "Orcs."

      "How many?" Estel murmured, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword.

      "Let's say there are enough of them to actually have a chance against you and I," said Legolas lightly, though Estel read from his eyes that he knew the situation was fairly dangerous and lethal indeed.

      "Fight or flee?" asked Estel.

      "No more fleeing," said Legolas gravely, "Did you not say I must head places now, instead of just running away from them? Well.  These orcs are in my way."

      "I did not tell you to kill yourself, Legolas," muttered Estel, "If reason says we must flee now and fight this another day…"

      "We can take them," said Legolas determinedly, "No more running.  But I cannot ask you to stay with me."

      Estel sighed.  "You needn't."

      They braced themselves for the orcs to appear from the woodworks.  Estel let the elf have his way.  After all, hadn't he just been mulling about their ridiculous situation? This was just one enemy in a lengthy list, and probably the only one that could be dealt with solely by force.  Any chance to eliminate any of them was one he was willing to take, and pay for with his life.

      "How did my cause become your own?" Legolas murmured to Estel, not really expecting an answer, just before the first of the orcs appeared from the trees and stalked menacingly their way.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	14. Chapter 14

Author: Mirrordance

Title: Exile 

Summary: An elf is exiled as a suspect to his own brother's murder.  A young king goes out into the Wild.  Two warriors cross paths and embark on a common adventure as one seeks to escape his past and the other to reclaim it.  How Aragorn and Legolas met.

* * *

PART 14

      Poised above their horses and towering over their multitude of foes, Estel raised his sword over his head and struck his enemies one by one.  The steed was undoubtedly agitated, but it was raised by elves, and whose master was himself a King.  It had a similarly stout heart, and it held its ground, bearing wounds that were made no more worse by its ever watchful master.

      But it was not the only one that held the human's attention.  Estel found a breath from battle to glance at the elf, who was holding his own amidst the attack, resorting to his knives at close-range.

      Orcs were easy enough to fell, they were prone to some careless, jerky movements.  Impulsive, seldom calculated moves were made successful only by brute force and sheer number.  Still… it was a force that was significantly strong, and a number significantly greater than the pair of them, mighty and experienced warriors though they may be.

      He was tiring quickly, and though the flood of his foes was thinning at last, he knew that his body's own lingering weakness made his own strength wane, inopportunely collecting _now_ after all his neglect and stubbornness.

      It was at this time that he found the elf inching towards him, on guard for any eventuality.  Legolas had his own foes to fell, but his vigilant eyes have been keeping watch over his human companion as well, and as long as he drew breath, no harm would come to this friend who risked life and limb for him, who made all his impossibilities seem so profoundly near and attainable.

      When Legolas saw a pair of Rivendell soldiers—specifically, the twins of Lord Elrond themselves-- emerge at a frantic pace from the woods, he felt more relief than defeat.  Estel did say they rode hard and fast, and probably did not even stop for the night.  

      They have been found.  And though it also meant they--or perhaps just he-- have been caught, at least Estel would not have to pay for Legolas' foolish dreams with his life.

      Between the four of them, the orcs did not have a prayer.  

      Breathing heavily, Estel turned to his brothers and smiled gamely.  The twins exchanged identically wry glances, before cautiously reaching for Estel's and and Legolas' horse reins.

      _No more running indeed_, Legolas thought.

* * *

      "You, Estel," said Elladan, "Have sent us in a merry chase."

      "Did you not say I make your life interesting?" Estel asked, blinking innocently at him.

      "Ohhh, you do find trouble," said Elrohir, looking about the carnage around them, "_Ada_ is not pleased with you at all, by the way.  But I suppose it would be rather obvious.  He said he wished you consulted with him first."

      "And what?" asked Estel, "If he did not agree, which most likely would have been the case, then I would have had a throng of you in our way, making escape impossible."

      "Either way," said Elladan, "You've been caught."

      "The thing is," said Elrohir, his lips curving to a slight smile as he watched Estel's disappointed face turn up at him hopefully, "After your little escape attempt, _Ada_ realized that you believe in this crazed elf with your life.  Mithrandir also seems to be a stalwart champion of his.  And so, though we have been sent to catch you, it is only to keep you in check."

      "And _not_," added Elladan, "to drag the both of you troublemakers back to Rivendell.  As you can see, your search party is made up of just Elrohir and myself."

      Estel's jaw dropped.  "Truly?"

      "Absolutely," replied Elladan, "This is one adventure of yours that we are definitely going to be a part of.  You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say _ada_ is giving you the easy way out and has a partiality for you."

      "What do you mean if you didn't know any better?" asked Estel.

      "Well I'd hate to think _you_ were his favorite," Elladan said, feigning offense, "It must be something else then.  Your spirit, and your way with your convictions… they're very… hm…" he paused, searching for the most appropriate word.

      "Convincing?" Estel guessed.

      "Conniving?" Elrohir hazarded.

      "Close," laughed Elladan, "But I was looking for something along the lines of… _contagious_.  You make the disastrously outrageous seem the most viable way across a situation."

      "Should I be flattered?" Estel asked wryly.

      "Mostly," Elladan smiled, "but you still owe us for that little prison escape.  You know an arm's reach is very relative? You left that key a little too far."  

      Legolas watched the three brothers exchange light conversation with veiled envy, and far less concealed wariness.  He did not desire to bring anyone else into his situation, into his problems.  His pride was pricked, dangerously threatened.  His expression remained closed as they all turned to look at him.

      "This is not your battle," he told them coldly.  Estel looked perplexed at the sudden change in him.

      "Our brother," said Elrohir, "therefore, our responsibility."

      "Then take him with you and leave me alone," Legolas snapped.

      "Well, as you can see, he will not be taken," said Elladan, "And we will not leave him."

      Legolas turned turbulent eyes towards Estel, "I will not be a burden to anyone."

      Estel did not bother to deny how much of a complication the elf had indeed brought into his life.  Legolas would have easily seen through the lie.  Instead, he said, "It is not so much of a burden if more carry its weight, _mellon_.  That is what _we_ are here for."

      "I will not be the cause for any of you to get hurt or killed," said Legolas, "You have gone far enough with me, Estel.  I've taken much from you.  Leave with them.  Leave me alone."

      "Oh we cannot do that either," said Elrohir, "Fate brought us together, Legolas.  While I'd have seen things simpler if we never saw each other again, there are things that must be done.  Untold stories, unfinished tales.  Restless ghosts."

      Legolas looked at his solid, unwavering, determined gaze.  It is at this time that he remembered Elrond's twins were great friends of Lesandro, once upon a time.  They share his loss.  They share his desire for justice, possibly even for vengeance.  At first, all this animosity had been directed his way, perhaps for lack of a more convincing suspect.  But now, he felt that they were on the same page at last, though it still remains to be said if they were on the same side.

      Either way, there was no dissuading Elrohir.  Or his twin.  Or Estel.  _They grow up strong of heart in Rivendell_, he thought.  And he knew that for what it was worth, he now had a crusade made up of the best of what elves and men have to offer with him on his quest.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	15. Chapter 15

Author: Mirrordance

Title: Exile 

Summary: An elf is exiled as a suspect to his own brother's murder.  A young king goes out into the Wild.  Two warriors cross paths and embark on a common adventure as one seeks to escape his past and the other to reclaim it.  How Aragorn and Legolas met.

* * *

PART 15

* * *

Mirkwood

* * *

      "Mirkwood soldiers must be rather lax," Elladan commented quietly, "for us to have gotten this far into their Realm without detection."

      "It's not for lacking on their part," Estel told him, "Legolas knows how they work, and this forest inside-out.  He's only spent centuries hidden beneath their very noses, after all."

      The party of four made their way across the vast forest on foot, having left the far-harder-to-conceal horses some miles back.  Traveling this way lent them more stealth, and secrecy was vital in their success.  The Mirkwood elf held point, moving without hesitation.  He knew these woods as if it was a kingdom that was still his own.

      Estel followed close behind, noting how much more silent Legolas had become after they gained the company of his brothers.  It wasn't altogether a huge surprise, considering the elf's perpetually-raised defenses.  But his was an easy charm Estel sincerely missed, and one that was so ironically, potently absent.  

      "You're pretty silent," Estel murmured at his back, deciding to tease him.

      "We have to be," Legolas told him after a moment.

      Estel watched him from the corner of his eyes.  It wasn't just the presence of Elrohir and Elladan after all, Estel deduced by the clouded, thoughtful look of Legolas, not so hidden beneath his vigilant concentration.

      The elf spoke, as if he read the other's thoughts.  "I've never returned this close before," he said softly, "Mirkwood elves live here, sleep in these rooms, have spoken with their friends, dined with their families…" he shook his head, as if the act would free him from his memories, "As I said.  I've never returned this close before."

      "Well it was bound to happen sometime," Estel pointed out.

      "I did not think so," said Legolas, "when I left… I thought it was 'til forever."

* * *

      They journeyed through to the evening, never once encountering a Mirkwood patrol or that of orcs.  While Legolas was skilled enough at evading, it was also undoubtedly due to a great measure of luck.  Soon, they reached the barest corners of the heart of the Woodland Realm, where most of the Mirkwood elves lived.

      They knew they were moving ever closer to the Realm's fortress palace as the great Greens tamed beneath their feet and over there heads.  Soon enough indeed, they came upon the sight of Mirkwood's main city, dimly lit and mostly asleep in the deep night, which they beheld at a distance for a brief moment.  It has long been said that Mirkwood was as close an image to the once-most-beautiful elven city of Middle-Earth Menegroth, as there could be at present.   The latter now long-fallen, Estel could only wonder at its splendor, for Mirkwood was already vast and stunning in a way that took his breath away, then when he passed through here with Gandalf days ago, and now, once again, with its reluctant prince at his side.  Intricately designed ways and arches, mansions and chambers built around towering trees… it was a sight to behold, long hidden in these mysterious forests, standing tall and proud amidst the horrors that strove to threaten it.

      "It is as beautiful as I remembered," said Legolas quietly, as helplessly enthralled by the magical kingdom as he must have been when he was Mirkwood's favorite child a long, long time ago.  Even as he expressed this, though, he was dismayed by his sentimentality, and clouded it with a dictation of his plans, "At the outskirts of the city is where we lay our dead.  There are not very many of us who are felled in battle, but the invaders of the South have given us enough to make such a space necessary."

      "We have none in Rivendell," said Elrohir.  

      "I am not surprised," said Legolas, "You also do not have Dol Guldur.  You will be familiar with the spot of land that I speak," he hesitated for a moment, "It is where Lesandro was laid to rest."

      "I see," Elrohir said, also at odds as to what to say of the topic.

      "What of it?" Estel asked, diffusing the tension.

      "There is a mausoleum for him," said Legolas, "Where his body joins our mother's.  It has a secret way into the palace at the heart of the city.  It was created so that in case of defeat and flight, we may use it to leave the city.  But mostly, my brothers and I, we used it to visit our mother whenever we pleased."

      "Lord Sala resides in the palace?" asked Estel.

      "The last I knew of," replied Legolas, "He was one of my father's advisors.  You understand… this was centuries ago."

      "Perhaps it would be wiser to seek Caro first," suggested Estel.

      "Then the palace is indeed the place to go," said Legolas, "His counsel is invaluable to my father, especially with the orc attacks.  He lived there last I knew, and since the problem has not left our land since my absence, he could very well be there also."

      "What are you talking about?" Elrohir asked, suddenly perplexed that the situation now sounded far more complicated than Estel first made it out to be.  Earlier in their journey, he was hastily filled in by the human about the situation; 'He was set-up, we're going back to get some answers.'  And since the elf who was at the core of all the madness was loathe to speak of his own tale to his new companions, Elrohir bit his tongue and kept his patience.  But it was not altogether his strongest value, and he certainly felt he had been tactful long enough, giving the Mirkwood elf the space he needed.  Now he needed to be informed before they moved further.

      "Caro aided in Legolas' escape," said Estel, "You see, Lesandro's murder and Legolas' trial thereafter was pushing an ambitious Elf-lord named Sala at the forefront of the throne.  Sala kept using Legolas against King Thranduil, making the King seem unjust, and gaining support from the people to usurp him.  Caro staged the death of Legolas and arranged his consequent exile and hiding to remove him from the position of being his father's weakness.  We think it may have been Sala who killed Lesandro and framed Legolas in order to wrest the Kingdom from Thranduil.  In the meantime, Caro swore to find Lesandro's killer.  But Legolas never heard from him."

      Elladan's brows furrowed in thought, "I remember Lord Sala loosely, from when we were here.  He seemed… rather unhinged."

      "I would not put it past him at all," Elrohir added thoughtfully.  He looked at Legolas, as if truly seeing him for the first time.  "Then again, I once also felt the same way about you."

      "Once?" Legolas asked, wryly.

      Elrohir frowned, irritated that the Mirkwood elf would find _now_ to be an opportune moment for him to apologize for all of his accusations.  "Your conviction is almost as madly convincing as Estel's," he said, stiff-necked, "And besides, all logic is against you going through all this trouble if it were just a charade.  I think at last that you are indeed innocent of any wrongdoing, Legolas.  But has anyone ever told you that you do not accept aid, compliment or apology very graciously?"

      Legolas almost smiled, despite the situation.  Estel chuckled at them shamelessly, and both elves knew they were at last on the same side when they both reached for the _insufferable_ man and poked him. 

      The confidence surely boosted the Mirkwood elf's heart, and the group strode forward, headed towards the quietest part of the Realm, where the dead rested.  Here, even the towering trees seemed reverently silent. It was along this road that, as if struck by some unknown force, Legolas uttered a low cry of surprise and hurt, and ceased his fervent, determined walking.

      Estel, panicked, turned to him, watching his face.  His eyes were bloodshot and turbulent, and as Estel opened his mouth to ask why, he felt Elrohir's hand on his shoulder, the elf shaking his head in warning.

      The four warriors stood still, and the world about him seemed to stay unmoving, as unmoving as these graves and these trees that surrounded it.  Estel's senses soon picked up what the three elves in his company must have been hearing.

      _A song_, Estel realized.

      It was a tragic lament; a great, secret one, sung only in the dead of the night, in the quietest of places, for the most forbidden feelings and the most forsaken of souls.

      _For the most forsaken of souls_… Estel thought, glancing at the elf prince beside him, who had just taken to smiling again before this.

      The sound was hailing, low and muffled but still as beautiful as the most beautiful songs of elvish make, from inside the sealed mausoleum that held two of the royal family.  But it was not for Lesandro that it was being sung, nor for his mother beside him.  Legolas was hearing his father singing it for his other lost son.

      Estel's heart beat frantically.  Of course.  When the Legolas decided to come back here out of his rekindled desire for truth and vengeance—when he came back to satisfy his hunger and hate—he also inadvertently returned to the things that he loved and lost.  Estel was realizing just now, what the elf had realized earlier along their journey here.  He was also coming back to his family.  He was also coming back home.

      _Home,_ thought Estel, _To__ where elves live, sleep, speak with their friends, dine with their families…_

      _I've never returned this close before_, he had said.

      Estel placed a reassuring hand on Legolas' shoulder and it seemed to break the spell.  Legolas turned toward him with shining eyes, as if seeking answers from his face.

      _Fight or flee?_

      "I do not have the answers, _mellon__,_" Estel told him quietly, trying to coax a smile out of him by saying, "Even if I did, I would not speak it.  So _none of you_ can blame the outcome on me."

      It worked, marginally, but it did what it had to do.  The look on the elf's eyes strengthened, and he stepped forward once more.  He had originally intended to return to his father only after his name was cleaned.  He had originally intended to return to his father when he can only be a credit to him.

      But this was a night when at least one grief would end.  Thranduil's song, his prayer, would be answered.  No matter what eventualities his return would yield to, his father had one loss less to feel.  He was back. 

TO BE CONTINUED…


	16. Chapter 16

Author: Mirrordance

Title: Exile 

Summary: An elf is exiled as a suspect to his own brother's murder.  A young king goes out into the Wild.  Two warriors cross paths and embark on a common adventure as one seeks to escape his past and the other to reclaim it.  How Aragorn and Legolas met.

* * *

PART 16

      Legolas stepped boldly into the hallowed, now-silent place to be met by a sword pressed against his throat.

      ~You have no business here,~ Legardo said to the 'intruder' in his native tongue, his voice low and grave, his eyes steely cold against the dark of the room, the dark of the night.  The intruder appeared as a shadow against the door, but the Legardo cared not who he was.  Only _he_ and the King Thranduil his father, had any right to be in this hall.  Only _they_ had the right to mourn here as they did this night, and thousands upon thousands of nights before it.

      ~Your senses and skills have only been strengthened by the ages, brother,~ Legolas said quietly, his tone carrying a might that was still evading his racing heart.  _Brother_, he thought achingly, wishing perhaps he said something else entirely.  It hardly seemed the most appropriate thing to say to family one had not seen in centuries.

      Beside the Prince Legardo, the King's breath caught, and Legardo of course was just as naturally surprised by the new arrival.  His oft-sure grip upon his sword trembled.  Legolas felt the cold blade quiver against his throat, and Legardo pulled it away, letting it fall to the ground in a sharp, resounding clang.

      ~I had hoped to keep my arrival a secret,~ Legolas said, turning to his beloved father and trying to keep a light and quiet tone, trying to create a strong face; one of them had to, and it had always been King Thranduil.  But not tonight.  Tonight, the King shook and quaked, his eyes wide in disbelief and pain, in fear and in hoping.

      ~Say something,~ Legolas said to his father, ~Please, my lord,~ he said, invoking the legendary resolve of the monarch.

      The King stepped forward and pulled him in an embrace that made his eyes close at its raw pleasure.  It made his heart ache, and his world spin.  It took his breath away.  How long had it been since he last felt his father's powerful closeness… How long has he been _longing_ to feel this again…

      _The price I would pay_, Legolas thought, _To__ keep the world still…_

      ~If this is a dream,~ the King said brokenly, ~May I never wake.  If you are a trick, may I be eternally deceived, my son… Legolas… You have come back to me at last.~

      Estel and his brothers respectfully averted their eyes; they have never seen elves so naked in their passions and hurts, it was almost like peering into their souls and their weaknesses, and begged to be allowed even just a measure of privacy.  Legardo's own eyes turned, a turbulent look set upon them.  Estel watched the younger Mirkwood prince.  They did not count on his presence here at all, fixated as they all were upon the grieving King's song and his nearness, and the consequent reunion of their companion with him.  

      The King pulled away, and held his son's face, his eyes searching it for answers.  ~I held you.  You were dead.  I held you.  They said you tried to escape.  You were tackled and you hit your head, and from this you never woke.  You were dead.  Your body was still…~ his hands were clawed, moving about the air in remembrance, ~It was so still.  I held you.  There was no doubt…~

      ~Hush, _ada_,~ Legolas said softly, ~There will be time for explanations later.  Suffice it to say it is not from the Halls of Mandos that I return here from.  But for now, there are things that need doing.~

      The King forced himself to look away from the prized sight of the son he was now reunited with, and turned to his three companions.  He recognized Elrond's twins, though not the human.

      ~My lord,~ Elladan murmured, ~We came in aid of your son.  This is Estel, our brother.~

      The King's eyes narrowed, taking in the sight of the sturdy man.  ~I see.  I have heard of Lord Elrond's human king.~

      Legolas turned to Estel in surprise, mouth agape. 

      ~There will be time for explanations later, remember?~ Estel said, using Legolas' own words against him.  The Mirkwood elf was displeased to say the least, but let it rest.  Legardo stepped forward and exchanged a hand clasp with his older brother, also pulling him away from the more-than-curious issue of Estel's lineage.

      ~Welcome back,~ Legardo said, smiling slightly, ~I thought it would take more than a tumble to wrest you from this Earth.~

      ~I've returned in search of Lesandro's true killer,~ said Legolas, ~Have you found out anything more in the time that I was gone?~

      ~It was the consensus of all,~ replied Legardo, ~Especially after your escape, that the deed must have been done by you.  I am sorry, Legolas.  But even your grave here was a place _ada_ had to fight for.  The investigation was ceased shortly after your burial.~

      Legolas glanced at the simple stone slab that supposedly held his body.  He did not know he had a tomb.  He awoke from his death-sleep in the arms of Andrada, deep into the untamed forests of Mirkwood.  It was a strange feeling to be looking at his own grave.  He tore himself from the macabre thought, focusing on the situation instead.

      ~I am looking for Caro,~ said Legolas, ~He swore to me he will find Lesandro's killer.~

      ~I'm sorry,~ Thranduil said to his son quietly, ~But we lost him a long, long time ago.  My old friend, felled in an orc battle alongside our other comrades, shortly after the death of my two sons.  My days have been irrepressibly dark.~

      ~Caro is dead,~ Legolas whispered, thinking, _Andrada__ was the only one left, and she was too deeply into her self-imposed exile to discover the truth_.  _No wonder nothing ever came of it.  No wonder I've been so long in exile without word, without emancipation._  As far as Mirkwood was concerned, he really was his brother's murderer, and this has been a fact for hundreds of years.  

      ~What of Caro?~ Thranduil asked.

      ~He helped me escape,~ replied Legolas, ~He said that Lord Sala was using me to usurp you.  This led us to believe that perhaps Sala had something to do with Lesandro's murder.  But it was not my story to uncover; Caro said Mirkwood would be best served by my death.  I had hoped he would discover more of the truth in my absence.  But as it turns out… he was no more living here than I was.~

      ~Lord Sala resides in the palace,~ said Legardo edgily, his hands fisting, ~Perhaps this centuries-old mystery can end at last.  That evil elf will pay for his crimes after so long.  And you, my brother, can reclaim your rightful place as the heir to our Kingdom.~

      Legolas shook his head, ~That is still too distant a dream for me for now, Legardo.  At present, I am primarily concerned with the uncovering of the truth.  May all this end tonight.~

TO BE CONTINUED…


	17. Chapter 17

Author: Mirrordance

Title: Exile 

Summary: An elf is exiled as a suspect to his own brother's murder.  A young king goes out into the Wild.  Two warriors cross paths and embark on a common adventure as one seeks to escape his past and the other to reclaim it.  How Aragorn and Legolas met.

* * *

PART 17

      Estel walked apace with Legolas, whom he was watching from the corner of his eyes.  The Mirkwood elf breathed as if each one was a memory.  Legolas caught him, and raised an eyebrow in innocent inquiry.

      Estel shok his head, _nothing_, he lied wordlessly.  He wondered if the elf was missing some things in all his overwhelming feelings over returning home.  The situation was dangerous enough without the added distraction.  He should _never_ allow himself to forget that there is someone here who wishes to dispose of Thranduil's heir and as of the moment, that was he.

      Legolas knew from the look on the human's eyes that he was bothered by something; well the entirety of the situation _was_ after all, disturbing indeed.

      "You needn't worry," he whispered soothingly, his voice echoing in the emptiness of the lengthy, dimly-lit, narrow hall that they walked in.  It was a long way along the winding secret passage from the royal mausoleum to the palace living quarters, turning, rising, twisting… at least it was as blessedly empty now as it had always been.  

      The group made for a strange party of Middle-Earth royals with Prince Legardo holding point, flanked by Prince Legolas and the King of Men.  Right behind them, the King of Mirkwood and the twin sons of the Lord of Imladris made a crowd; they refused to tear their eyes from their respective charges-- a fair request, since all the circumstances that had brought them to where they are were undoubtedly prompted by the exiled elf and the stubborn human in some way.

      They stopped at the end of the long hall.  Legolas knew this particular door would open up to Lesandro's bedroom.  The crown prince strategically had the best access to the escape path, to keep the line alive in case of invasion.  He remembered with fondness that his old room was connected to Lesandro's.  Legolas would come through the door all hours of the day and the night, and Lesandro would happily welcome the intrusion.  

      _He was always so kind…_

      Legolas was torn from his memories when Legardo took a deep breath and pushed the door open, letting light into the hall.  Cautiously, Legardo looked about the room to ensure it was empty, before stepping aside to let the others in.  When Thranduil stepped forward at last, Legardo closed the door behind him, and it melded against the walls so well one could not have known it led to a secret passage.

      _Lesandro's__ room_, Legolas thought, looking around.  _This once housed my brother.  This place once housed our childhood, and our dreams_…

      He suddenly paused, felt dismayed.  The room has since been lived in.  It smelled different.  It felt different.  Things were not where they were supposed to be.  That chair didn't belong there.  That table, that mirror… Those aren't his.  He stepped towards the cabinets and threw them open.  And he didn't find Lesandro's clothes.

      His heart pounded.  He felt an irrational anger.  _What is this madness?_

      ~This is my room now, Legolas,~ Legardo said quietly from behind him.

      Legolas took a calming breath before he faced his younger brother.  He tried a smile, winced instead and abandoned the effort altogether.  ~I am sorry,~ said Legolas softly, ~Of course it is.~

      ~Time may have stood still for you,~ Legardo added uncomfortably, ~But we have since moved on.  Lived on.  As we had to.  It is the way of things.~

      ~I know,~ said Legolas quickly, ~I apologize.  Truly, I do.  You had to.  I know.~

      ~But you cannot understand,~ Legardo said edgily, ~Can you?~

      Legolas opened his mouth to reply, but King Thranduil interrupted the helplessly bitter exchange of his sons before it went any further.

      ~There are things to do yet, my sons,~ he told them evenly, ~I am wondering if I should summon my more trusted advisors.~

      ~It is secrecy that is most crucial here _ada_,~ said Legolas, shaking his head, ~Because we are not yet entirely certain that it is Lord Sala to blame, and may inadvertently be informing the real plotters of our plan.  However, it would also be prudent to ensure that someone else knows of this, in case anything should happen to us.  Perhaps your most trusted friends, _ada_.  Or if there are none you can trust with a secret such as this, then elves who are currently in a position of power but _could not_ have been in a position to plan Lesandro's murder years and years before.~

      ~A wise suggestion,~ the King said approvingly, thoughtfully, ~That way, they are in a position to aid us now but could not have been his murderers because they were not in power before.  I have a few such elves in my ranks.  I shall meet with them at once.~

      ~And I shall have a conversation with Sala,~ said Legolas, emphasizing, ~Alone.~

      ~Absolutely not!~ retorted Thranduil.

      ~I will catch him unawares, _ada_,~ said Legolas, ~It would be like the arrival of a ghost, or a conscience.  Perhaps the truth will flow from his lips this way.~

      ~_My son_,~ said Thranduil fervently, ~Alone with Lesandro's murderer? No! I've only just had you restored to me.  Absolutely not!~

      ~We are not even certain if he will fight,~ Legolas pointed out, ~You have seen me in battle, _ada_, I am _more_ than capable of handling Lord Sala.  He is--~

      ~Old?!~ Thranduil cut him off coldly, ~_I_ am _old_, boy, and I can take you to task if I so desired.~

      Estel, Elrohir and Elladan looked at each other wryly. They had long since looked upon Legolas as a respected warrior, and then for the twins, a threat.  But this was a curiously familiar side, one that they knew by their own experiences with the undoubtedly overburdened Lord Elrond.  They had also long looked upon King Thranduil of Mirkwood as rather stern and forbidding.  But Legolas was as much a weakness to Thranduil centuries before as he was now.  The King would eventually bend, they guessed.  They knew the signs from their own father, after all.

      ~I shall accompany him,~ said Legardo.

      Thranduil looked at the brothers skeptically, ~Now you ask me to lay _both_ my sons at the feet of a murderer.  We need sentries, at least!~

      ~But secrecy must be kept,~ Legolas reminded him.

      ~We shall go as well,~ offered Estel, and though the King of Mirkwood doubted for a breath, the suggestion naturally comforted him; the human king and the twin sons of Elrond are known for their skills and have gotten his son this far, perhaps they can take him the rest of the way.

      ~Now _I_ must object,~ said Legolas, ~If my return here stirs up old ghosts and murderers, I refuse to allow _ada_to be cavorting around unescorted.  Estel.  Go with him.  Please.~

      King looked at King, measuring.  Thranduil was wondering if the young human could defend him at all.  But the man's eyes held a wisdom and sharpness that was uncomfortably reminiscent of the best of elves.  And of his skills and courage the King of Mirkwood has heard before.  

      ~Now _I_ must object,~ said Elladan.

      ~Is this a debate or am I not the King? Or perhaps we have left Mirkwood without my knowledge,~ snapped Thranduil, frustrated in general.

      ~I apologize, my lord,~ said Elladan, ~But it is my duty upon our father to ensure that Estel is kept safe.  We both shall go with you.~

      Elrohir looked at him in dismay, but did not object.  Naturally he was completely displeased to be closeted with Murder Suspect 1 (Legolas), 2 (Sala) and possibly even 3 (Legardo).

      _This is going to be a long and insufferable night_, he predicted, sighing.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	18. Chapter 18

Author: Mirrordance

Title: Exile 

Summary: An elf is exiled as a suspect to his own brother's murder.  A young king goes out into the Wild.  Two warriors cross paths and embark on a common adventure as one seeks to escape his past and the other to reclaim it.  How Aragorn and Legolas met.

* * *

PART 18

      The well-armed elven trio of warriors stealthily maneuvered through the palace halls, Legardo ahead and Legolas and Elrohir slightly behind him.  Legolas had to admit he was not as aware of his surroundings as he should have been; he was marveling at his younger brother, who seems to have grown into a rather impressive person in the past centuries.

      _I've missed you grow_, Legolas realized, and that was saying a lot.

      Of the three Mirkwood princes, it was Legardo who was the quiet one, often keeping to himself.  If Lesandro had been known as having their mother's genial, well-mannered ways, and Legolas with their father's skills and impulses, Legardo was the reserved one, unlike any of their parents, an elf of his own intriguing making.

      Naturally, such traits, alongside the fact that he was the youngest of them and therefore not always included in the most serious of discussions or the most dangerous of hunts, did not make Legolas as close to Legardo as he was to Lesandro.  The problems that rose with the strengthening of the Southern borders even allowed for less of their time together, since it was Legolas with his superior skills and relatively dispensable position as the second son (and therefore not the heir) who was most often in battle.

      When he left, Legardo was like a shadow, a quiet presence, almost determinedly stoic, as if he was seeking to merely pass through his life.  He had a quirk of a smile, a soft voice.  He had some skills with blades and arrows, but his sure grip was often beset by his greater hesitations.  

      The elf running before Legolas exuded power and desire.  Legolas could see it; Legardo wanted things, now.  And he would protect what was his.  Perhaps he finally grew into himself all these centuries Legolas had been absent.  Or perhaps it was this life of cruelty that necessitated the change.  After all, Legardo's brother was murdered, his other brother slain in escape for the crime.  It must have been an unkind life, to say the least.  Or perhaps he changed because it was required of him, the next King, the _only_ one in line for the throne.  He needed to exude strength and wisdom, his people needed to believe in him.

      Legolas wondered if he himself changed.

      _Most likely_, he decided, and was not entirely sure if it was for the better.  His heart was harder, his mercy shorter, his anger easier to court.  These were not altogether good things.  

      _I missed myself too_.

      The three warriors pulled to a stop.  They stood by Lord Sala's door.  Brother looked at brother, and glanced at their unobtrusive Rivendell elf companion.  They were all ready and eager.

* * *

      They stepped inside Lord Sala's room.

      But unlike the careful constraint Legardo showed just moments before, he stepped into that room afire.  He drew his sword and stalked forward to the sleeping Lord's bed, straddling the older elf and putting a hand over his mouth to keep him from screaming for aid.  The elf Lord's eyes snapped alert, looked at him with fear and confusion.  But more fear when Legardo raised his sword to strike him a lethal blow…

      ~Cease this!~ Legolas exclaimed, grabbing his brother's arm and halting the fatal swing.  He caught his brother before Legardo did anything irrevocable, though for a moment he was so shocked and hence rooted to his place that he actually feared he would be too late.  

      ~He is a murderer,~ Legardo seethed, looking up at his older brother and struggling with Legolas' iron grip, ~He killed Lesandro.  He must die.  He must pay.  He's been lucky to have evaded justice all these years.~

      ~We do not know this for a certainty,~ Legolas reasoned, ~Let him speak.~

      ~He will only tell us lies!~ said Legardo.

      ~No one deserves to be silenced thus,~ said Legolas determinedly, ~Take your hand from his mouth and let him speak.~ ~But he is a liar,~ said Legardo, his voice taking on an almost pleading tone, ~Let us end this now.  We've waited all these years!~

      ~We can wait awhile longer,~ Legolas told him gently, lowering his brother's sword arm and reaching to free Sala's mouth from beneath Legardo's hand as well.  Legolas looked at the older elf lord intently and sighed inwardly.  The way Sala stared, it's as if he feared Legolas more than the murderous Legardo! 

      ~You are dead,~ Sala whispered.

      ~I know,~ Legolas said, ~But that is the least of your problems.~

      Legolas inched closer to the elf-lord's face, and Legardo backed away.  Legolas took the space his younger brother vacated without hesitation.  He knew he had precious little time.  Lord Sala always had a quick mind.  It would be best to ask him all the questions that needed truthful answering while he was completely stunned.

      ~Why did you kill Lesandro?~ Legolas asked him.

      ~I did not,~ Sala whispered, ~I did not!~

      ~The truth, my lord,~ Legolas told him in a low voice, ~Only with the truth can you purchase my mercy, and your life.~

      ~I did not kill the King's son,~ Sala insisted, wide, glistening eyes boring into the younger elf's, fearful and shaking, ~I did not kill your brother.  I had nothing to do with his death!~

      ~He lies, you can see by his eyes!~ urged Legardo restlessly.

      Legolas ignored his brother, staring at the elf lord, willing for Sala to stare back at him.  The Elf prince's presence was so potent that Sala did as he wordlessly demanded.  They held each other's gazes for a long, telling moment.  Contrary to what Legardo was insisting, every fiber of Legolas' being was beginning to believe Lord Sala, and this was exactly as he feared.  If not Lord Sala, then who…?     

      Legolas took a deep, shaky breath, pushing himself away from the elf lord.  The spell upon Sala broke with their diminished contact, and his sharp eyes begin to take in the situation more sensibly.  

      Legardo watched his older brother back down, and he was not pleased with this at all.  He sauntered forward with his sword drawn, saying, ~I will do what you have not the courage to.~

      Legolas stood in his way, ~Leave him be, Legardo.  He never had the nerve.  He only found opportunity.~

      Behind Legolas, Sala stealthily reached for the dagger he kept beneath his pillow.  In a quick motion, he raised it in a defensive manner before himself.  

      ~See how he seeks to attack you!~ exclaimed Legardo.

      Legolas whipped around to face Sala, who only said, ~I will not be harassed any more.~

      Elrohir tensed, watching them _all_.

      _Oh for the Valar's sake_, he thought miserably, even as he prepared for any eventuality.

      ~He is guilty!~ exclaimed Legardo, ~Guilty, I tell you! He killed Lesandro, and will kill you as well! Then he will kill me, and he will kill _ada_! We must end this now, Legolas! We must!~

      ~I killed no one!~ snapped Sala, rising cautiously to his feet, his dagger poised at the ready.  Legolas stood between the two of them, yet to draw his sword though his fingers lingered near its hilt.

      ~You know what they say in a murder,~ said Sala softly, ~follow the _mithril_.  After the death, to whom does the treasure go?  To whom does _Mirkwood_ go? It is so hideously plain, isn't it? To whom does Mirkwood go, ghostly prince? At first I thought it went to you.  But it actually landed on someone else's lap.~

      Legardo's eyes widened.  ~You liar! You poison my brother's mind with your manipulative words just as you poisoned all of our own kingdom against him centuries ago! Do not listen to him, Legolas!~

      Legolas' heart pounded.  He feared he did not need to.  He feared he may have known the truth even before this confrontation with Sala.  Hadn't he and Estel spoken of this before?

_      It is not a question of disliking him, said Estel, as much as it is a question of who gains by his death, and by your persecution._

      The words of Estel and Sala were different, but they meant the same.  That happened days ago, and he was cut off by the arrival of orcs before he could say,

_      I can think of only Legardo_.

      ~I do not lie,~ said Sala coolly, ~At least not about this.  I did not kill Lesandro.  I would swear this on my name and that of my father's.  I would swear this on your brother's grave.  I would even swear this upon your kind mother's grave.  I did not kill him.~

      ~Would you stake your life on that?~ Legolas asked him edgily, still unwilling to accept that perhaps, _perhaps_ it really truly was Legardo who killed Lesandro.  _Brother_… he thought achingly, fervently wishing his heart will not believe the elf lord.  _Things would be so much simpler…_

      ~I already am doing so,~ said Sala boldly, and Legolas looked at him and _knew_.  The elf lord was an avid opportunist, yes.  But he was no murderer.  Legolas turned to the turbulent, panicked eyes of his younger brother and _knew_ from them too.  This is the murderer.  _I am staring down Lesandro's killer.  And I share his blood_.

      He knew now, for a certainty.  No questions needed to be asked or answered.  Legardo's look was telling, and Legolas had relied upon his instincts long enough to trust them now.  And once the heart knows, it cannot go back.  It can create no pretensions or illusions, even with how fervently its bearer wishes to do so.  

      ~I will end this madness,~ Legardo uttered, stepping forward, ~Elrohir, call for aid.  Sala must be taken!~

      ~I am _not_ tearing my eyes from any of you,~ Elrohir said vehemently.

      ~You had better not,~ agreed the perceptive Sala, ~For I guarantee if you leave, Legardo will try to kill the Prince Legolas and myself, for all who know the truth must be silenced.  And then, you can count upon your own death soon afterwards.~

      ~You liar!~ yelled Legardo, moving past Legolas and diving towards Sala with sword raised.

      Legolas drew his own weapon in a blur of motion, blocking his way.  Blade grated against blade.  Brother stared down brother.

      ~Lay it down, Legardo,~ Legolas told him coldly, ~It is over.~

TO BE CONTINUED…


	19. Chapter 19

Author: Mirrordance

Title: Exile 

Summary: An elf is exiled as a suspect to his own brother's murder.  A young king goes out into the Wild.  Two warriors cross paths and embark on a common adventure as one seeks to escape his past and the other to reclaim it.  How Aragorn and Legolas met.

* * *

PART 19

      Legardo's chest heaved, his eyes afire.  He opened his mouth, and wished he could lie.  But his older brother's steely, frigid gaze only _dared_ him to try it.  This was the face the uruks feared, he realized.  The face that lent Legolas his legend on the battlefield.  This was what it meant to have Thranduil's truest son as one's enemy.  Legardo set his jaw instead, and took a step back, lowering his sword.

      ~It is over,~ Legolas told him quietly, warily lowering his own weapon.  His gaze softened as he stared at his younger brother, searching for answers, searching for reasons.

      ~What did I tell you?~ Sala said triumphantly.

      ~I would want to be forgotten right now, if I were you,~ Elrohir muttered at him.

      ~Why?~ Legolas asked his younger brother.  To have a kingdom was a common dream, yes.  But it was not desire enough to kill one's own brother for; at least, it never was, for Legolas.  He could not comprehend what could be so great to gain in exchange for one's loved one, one's soul.  He could not comprehend the traitorousness, the madness, the utter _selfishness_ of it.  His own blood… How had he not seen this festering evil? How could it have been a hatred so great and so well concealed?

      ~Oh, I did not dislike him,~ Legardo replied offhandedly after a moment wherein Legolas felt perhaps his question would not be indulged at all, ~I loved Lesandro, I did.  Who could not? And when I mourned for him I truly, truly grieved.  Each night _ada_ and I would come to his grave, I mourned.~

      ~Then why did you kill him?~ asked Legolas, his voice a mere whisper in the room that was weighty with truths and secrets, weighty with a pain that thickened the air.  Old wounds will be shown this night, old ghosts will rise.  They will stir madly and break the heart before they can be put to rest at last.

      ~I did not,~ replied Legardo, looking away from Legolas and studying the gleaming sheen of his sword, ~At least not of my own will.  That day you two rode to hunt orc, I was out with a company of our men, learning how to be a proper soldier.  So that others may see me at last.  So that _ada_ and you, and Lesandro too will see I am as good as all the rest of you.  I got separated from my group.  I heard a sound and I shot without knowing for a certainty what was there.  My arrow went wide.  But I knew for a certainty that I hit something.  It was only later did I realize it was him.~

      ~An accident,~ Legolas whispered, wondering if he should feel relief.  His brother was no so evil after all.  Perhaps he was just afraid.  He was young.  It was all right to be.  Legolas could even forgive what was done to him as a result of Legardo's inept shooting and subsequent secrecy.  He was young.  He was afraid.  All that he did afterwards was just a consequence of his one, unintended mistake.  But after all the flow of truth, it was Legardo who would not let the story end there.

      ~Of course,~ said Legardo, ~they thought it was you.  I was not a full soldier yet, from where else could I have gotten my bows but from your stock in the palace? You had the arrows, you had the motives, you had the opportunity.  Who else could it have been?  And I was once more forgotten, but this time for the best.  _My_ best.  I could not have come forward to save you, Legolas.  You must understand, it would have been daft of me to do so.  First because it meant giving up myself.  Then because it meant giving up the kingdom I will inherit.  But mostly, I did not wish to spare _you_.  

      ~Oh, how entertaining it was,~ Legardo continued, ~to watch the golden prince fall.  The golden prince of Mirkwood, kinslayer, and a coward killed in his pathetic attempt to escape.~

      ~Why do you hate me so?~ Legolas asked, heartbroken.  He loved Lesandro greatly, and it pained him not to have been as good of a brother to Legardo as Lesandro had been to him.  He felt like a failure.  

      Legardo rolled back his eyes, ~You do not know how it is to grow up after you, Legolas.  _Thranduil's__ truest son_,~ he spat out bitterly, ~The beauty of his mother, the spirit and skill of his father.  You certainly left none for me, brother.  You have taken much.  I have only taken what is fair and right by me.~

      ~You have robbed me of my life,~ Legolas said shakily, his hands fisting with his mounting rage and frustration.

      ~And you have robbed me of mine,~ said Legardo, ~All is fair.  All is right.~

      ~They have all heard now,~ Legolas said, referring to Sala and Elrohir, ~The world will know.~

      Legardo glanced at the two other elves in the room, shrugged.  ~I am not fool enough to believe I can defeat all three of you in a battle.  The world will know, yes, yes they will.  But they will know too late.  They will not have you _anymore_.~

      With a mad cry, he lunged at Legolas, who barely had time to parry with his sword.  Legardo's offensive was reckless and angry, all the rage of all his years pushing him forward, lending him strength, even as Legolas' resolve to remain solely on the defensive lent him great weakness.

      ~Much as I am sure you would love to see them slay each other,~ Elrohir said to a fascinated Lord Sala watching the brothers, ~Now would be a good time to call for aid, my lord.~

      Sala tore his gaze from the fight and nodded, leaving his suite in a rustle of robes, keeping the door ajar.  Elrohir, sword drawn, was torn between assisting Legolas and letting him keep his honor in a fight that had undoubtedly become a duel.  Elrohir decided to stay his ground.  This was a fight of brothers, with a history of anger and pain that only they themselves can resolve. Besides, it seemed Legolas had things well in order.  

      _More or less_, he corrected himself.

* * *

      The King of Mirkwood, flanked by three younger advisors, and Estel and Elladan, turned a corner on their way to Lord Sala's suite and ran into the man himself.

      The elf lord yelped, colliding into the King.  Estel of course, has never seen him before.  But Elladan, recognizing the elf, stepped forward and pulled the elf lord away from the King, sighting the dagger that he still clutched tightly in one hand.

      ~What is this madness?!~ the King uttered.

      ~A fight, a fight!~ Sala exclaimed, shaking off Elladan's grip.  He looked a little excited, his eyes glistening, almost manic.  He was breathless and nervous as well.  The party of six looked at him as if he was insane.  If there was indeed a fight, they expected _him_ to be in it.

      ~Between whom, Sala?~ asked Thranduil impatiently, ~Speak!~

      ~Your sons, my lord!~ answered Sala, ~In my suite! Legolas, he is back!~

      Thranduil took a deep breath and quickened his pace.  ~Bring him along,~ he ordered his men, who took Lord Sala by the arms, as if he needed further prodding.  

      Estel's jaws set as he thought of his friend.

      _I turn my back on you for one moment_, he thought, inexplicably annoyed.

* * *

      The duel has steadily moved out of the suite as it got rougher, and the stakes got higher as time pressed on.  Legardo knew he had little time to succeed in that which he set out to do.  Sala and the aid he will bring with him would be by soon, and then he wouldn't have a chance _at all_, as if it wasn't already hard enough to contend with Legolas alone.

      His older brother was giving him the easy way through, he soon realized with anger and dismay that even made him more reckless.  He was not a match for Legolas.  He never was.  They both knew this, and Legolas still showed him mercy, not fighting at full strength.  This infuriated him.  The charity was embarrassing, insulting.

      ~Fight me, you fool!~ Legardo yelled as he pressed forward.  Legolas just grunted in reply, blocking blow after blow.  They moved out of the room, into the halls.  It was narrower and far more difficult to fight in.  He often found himself backed against a wall, ducking to dodge a lethal swing that sent sparks flying from rock and sword.

      Moving past his brother, Legolas found an opening in Legardo's poor defenses.  He twisted his grip upon his daggers, and hit Legardo's side with the hilt, rather than the blade.  The other elf yelped and backed away, holding his side as he tried to catch his breath.

      ~Cease this madness,~ Legolas asked him, ~Please, brother.  It is done.  Lay down your arms.~

      Legardo's face was flushed with exertion and anger, ~It is done for me, yes,~ he conceded, ~But I _cannot_ accept that in the end it is still _you_ who would have everything!~

      He lunged forward again, and the fatal dance continued.

* * *

      Elrohir watched them carefully, determined to keep the situation free of intervention unless he sensed any real danger.  Legolas was doing extremely well, but that was to be expected.  Either way, he trailed them and stood on vigilant guard as they moved from room to hall, hall to anterooms and chambers, eventually finding themselves at one of the courtyards in the palace.  It was a good place for a duel, Elrohir thought, and wondered if the clever Legolas intentionally brought them there, the open space giving him more room to dodge blows.

      Naturally, their fighting was garnering them attention up and down the palace.  Confused sentries seeing a ghost of their spurned golden prince fighting with his younger brother, curious courtiers and advisers, all rallied around the duelists, not quite knowing what to do.

      ~Hold your fire,~ Elrohir called to the soldiers, who were undoubtedly aiming at Legolas, the known murderer now seemingly fighting the present heir to the throne.

      _This does not look good at all_, Elrohir thought, wondering where in the world are Elladan and Estel? Was fate so cruel that she would send him complications and no aid?!

      The soldiers, though Elrohir was fairly certain they did not know who he was or what his right was to command them, followed his demand.

      _Most likely because I am the only one here who knows what he is doing_, he thought miserably.

      _More or less_.

* * *

      Thranduil and his group pushed their way through the onlookers, who made way for him when they realized their sovereign has arrived.  All the courtyard was silent, saved for the high-pitched clinging and the swooshing of the blades as his sons fought each other.

      ~Halt!~ he commanded his sons, ~Legolas! Legardo! You will cease this now!~

      ~He will not desist, _ada_!~ Legolas said breathlessly, bending to avoid his death for the nth time that night.  He leaped back, away from Legardo's range, and threw up his hands, to show the onlookers his willingness to surrender and follow the will of the King.

      Legardo, caught in his rage, seemed just now made aware of the situation.  He paused from battle, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath, looking around him.  His eyes were wide with realization and fear, and then anger and defiance, tinged with more than a hint of madness.  He began to laugh.

       ~Welcome back,~ Legardo drawled at his brother, ~I thought it would take more than a tumble to wrest you from this Earth.~ Legolas' heart constricted.  Legardo said those exact same words to him early in the night, except this time, it was lined by malice, desire to hurt, heavy, heavy sarcasm and pressing hatred.

      ~I've never done anything to you to merit this,~ Legolas said to him, hurt.

      Legardo blinked at him, as if torn from inside himself.  But he had paid much, too much already at this point to begin to doubt himself.  Legolas had everything, he had nothing, and it was always the case.  Ever since they were children.  Up until now.  

      _I have nothing_, he thought bitterly, lunging forward again.

      Legolas went on the defensive once more.

      Thranduil watched them in horror, but turned away when one of his military commanders asked him what they ought to do.  He glanced around, and noted that his well-disciplined palace guards are already strategically in place.  Specifically, the archers.  It was only a question of upon which elf to aim.

      ~Hold your fire,~ Thranduil told him coolly, showing no sign of his fledging control, ~Tell the guards ensure that only military personnel are around.  Keep the people out of harm's way before weapons are released.~

      The commander nodded, bowed and scurried to do as his king bid.  

      Estel was standing beside the King, knowing his orders were made mostly to buy him time until he could figure out what to do with his sons.

      ~Tell Legolas to end it, sire,~ said Estel to him quietly, ~You know he can, if he so desired.~

      Thranduil turned to him with furrowed brows.  ~To end it?~

      ~He will know what to do,~ Estel said, ~If he is who we all know him to be, he will do the right thing.~

      Thranduil's eyes drifted back to the battle.  

      ~Legolas!~ the King commanded, ~End it!~

* * *

      Legolas was Mirkwood elf long enough to know if it was the King making a demand or if it was his father.  Thranduil was both, and Legolas knew only to defy the side of Thranduil that was his _ada_, but certainly not the side of Thranduil that was the King.

      _End it_, the King commanded in a detached, high-handed tone.  It will not suffer defiance.  

      Gritting his teeth in determination, Legolas shifted from defense to offense.  He took a step forward and swung his sword against Legardo's.  For the first time that night, Legardo was forced to take a step back, forced to parry.  Legolas was fighting now, and a fierce warrior he was.  He will take all that he desired.

      His blows struck so hard it was like hitting rock.  Legardo picked the wrong foe to court.  While his own skills have been honed by time, this was a warrior's instinct he could not match.

      Legolas' swings were perfect, well-calculated arcs that were the stuff of his legend.  His precision was stunning, and Legardo soon found it harder and harder to ward off the vicious attack.  He had to dodge so quickly he kept stumbling over his own feet.

      In two more moves, Legardo was disarmed and on the ground, his sword soaring to the air and landing with a resounding, final clang some distance away, taken by the force of Legolas' assault.  Two feet away it was, but it might as well have been two leagues.  He will never be able to get it back.  

      Legolas stalked forward, and let the blade of his sword rest against his brother's neck.

      ~So it ends,~ Legardo seethed, looking up at the victor, his brother, who once again stole from him.

      ~I do not understand,~ said Legolas softly, ~I never will.  Still I find I can forgive you for taking my life away from me.  But what I cannot forgive, is that you found joy in it.  My _brother_, my own _flesh and blood_.~

      His voice trembled, though his eyes and his grip on his sword remained resolute.  ~You break my heart.  Perhaps this is why I cannot even find the heart to kill you.  Or maybe it is because though your soul is black and bought, I still see our mother on your face, and _ada_, and Lesandro.  But mostly, I find I cannot kill you because you are already dead to me, brother.  It is over.  Goodbye.~

      Legolas stepped away, and turned his back on his brother, as much then in that moment, as much for ever.

      Nose flaring, eyes afire, Legardo could not accept his defeat.  Slowly and shakily, he got to his feet, drawing a dagger from the back of his boot.

      ~Legolas!~ Estel cried, having seen the motion.

      Legardo lunged forward, plunging the dagger deep against his brother's back, and twisting it slowly.

      ~They said Lesandro had mother's kindness,~ Legardo whispered triumphantly against Legolas' ear, ~And you had the King's spirit.  But I… I always had the cunning, _brother_.  It is _you_ who are dead, not I.~

TO BE CONCLUDED IN PART 20…


	20. Chapter20

Author: Mirrordance

Title: Exile 

Summary: An elf is exiled as a suspect to his own brother's murder.  A young king goes out into the Wild.  Two warriors cross paths and embark on a common adventure as one seeks to escape his past and the other to reclaim it.  How Aragorn and Legolas met.

* * *

PART 20

      Elrohir saw Legardo take the knife as well.  He drew his bow, but glanced at the King before releasing his arrow in a moment of hesitation that in hindsight, he could not afford after all.

      The dagger was already deep into Legolas' back when Elrohir let loose his arrow against Legardo's arm.  The first, Legardo scarcely noticed.  He was muttering things to Legolas that only the two of them could possibly know.  The second arrow struck home again, and this time, it did what it had to.

      Legardo cried out in pain, and dimly, Legolas realized someone must have been aiding him.  With the last of his waning strength, he elbowed Legardo and sent him stumbling back.

      Estel shot forward, and so did Thranduil, Elladan and Elrohir.  The guards kept the rest of the onlookers at bay.

      Legolas stubbornly remained on his shaking feet, gasping as he tried to catch his breath.  The pain on his back was sharp and throbbing, and the sticky wetness of his own blood was rolling against his skin.  Estel got to him first, taking him by the arms and trying to lower him to the ground.

      ~_They_ will not see me so incapacitated,~ he gasped out determinedly, to Estel's consternation.

      ~You will get yourself killed one of these days!~ Estel muttered, though did not push him, taking his arm and carrying some of his weight instead.

      ~Legolas, lie still!~ his father exclaimed.

      ~Not here,~ the prince insisted, his fingers trying to grasp the hilt upon his back, determined to pull it out himself.

      ~Oh for the Valar's sake, Legolas!~ sighed Estel, batting the elf's hands away.

      ~It has to come off,~ Legolas argued through grit teeth.

      ~You are deluded if you think you can do it on your own,~ scolded Thranduil, looking at Estel, ~We must get him inside.  The fool will not be treated here with everyone looking.~

      Estel nodded and stepped forward, bearing most of Legolas' weight now.  He headed towards the nearest enclosed room he could find, a breakfast room.  Behind him, he heard Thranduil coordinating with his troops and asking them to get him the best of healers.  Elladan and Elrohir were making sure Legardo was completely disarmed and his wounds properly tended to.

      ~You caused a wild stir, Legolas,~ Estel teased as he sat the elf down upon the long, wooden table in the middle of the room.  It will definitely do as a bed for now.  ~Did you not say you wanted to arrive in secret?~

      ~Ha,~ Legolas said, not finding much strength or inclination to say anything else.  He clenched his eyes shut, grit his teeth and fisted his hands, as if trying to control and contain the ferocious, fiery pain of his back.  He could not breathe, he could barely even think.  His entire body trembled with hurt and a strange, spreading, bone-deep coldness.

      ~Stay with me, _mellon_,~ Estel told him softly, holding his face and willing for the elf to look at him.

      Glassy blue eyes fought to open and focus upon Estel.

      ~Rally to me,~ Estel said in his most Kingly way.

      _It suffers no defiance_, Legolas thought inanely, recognizing the tone that was so much like his regal father's.

      Legolas' chest heaved, but he nodded before closing his eyes shut again.  His body shook as he tried to just breathe.  To just…_ stay_.

      A flurry of movement caught the edges of his waning attention.  His father arrived, bearing a host of roused healers.  He also heard Elladan and Elrohir.

      ~Do you have _athelas_?~ Estel asked someone urgently.

      ~They have everything in this forest,~ Elrohir said, ~Even in the heart of winter.  We will find them.~

      ~Go, quickly,~ Estel said, and Elrohir headed for the door, to be trailed by a company of Thranduil's soldiers after the King nodded his hesitant approval.

      ~The man offers to tend to my son?~ Thranduil asked, showing more of his skepticism as the occupants of the room thinned.

      ~If you trust in the hands of Lord Elrond, my lord,~ said Elladan, ~Estel's are just as good.  And we shall assist him.  We were all trained by _ada_, not to mention the _athelas_ work miracles in the hands of this human King.~

      Legolas opened one eye, and then the other.  He looked at Estel sourly, but the man was already occupied with examining the wound and the dagger hilt that still protruded from it.

      ~It has to come off,~ he said.  Estel shifted from behind Legolas, took his hand and squeezed it to ensure he had the elf's attention.  ~This will hurt.~

      ~I know,~ the elf whispered raggedly, ~But I have no plans,~ he gasped, ~of keeping it there.~

      Estel pursed his lips to keep from smiling, ~You really are an idiot.~

      Legolas braced his hands against the edges of the table.  Thranduil held his shoulders as Estel's hands closed upon the hilt of Legardo's dagger.  Even the slightest touch upon it was sending waves of agony through Legolas, and he bit his lip to keep from crying out.  Sweat beaded against his furrowed brows as he struggled with the burning and all at once frigid cold of his injury.  He gasped as Estel began to draw the blade out slowly, following its old path.  His breathing hitched, and each inhale was a ragged, futile battle.  He felt his father's intent, worried eyes on him, felt Thranduil's warm hands shift from his shoulders to the back of his head, the King pushing his son's face close to his chest, warming him, reminding him he was not alone.  Legolas could hear his father's heart beating, and he tied his own heart to it, letting it guide him, letting it keep him rooted to life.

      Estel drew the blade out completely, and Legolas' blood started to flow in a furious rush that promised to end his life if it were not hastily controlled.  He took some white linen the other healers handed him and he pressed it against the wound to staunch the floor of blood.  They drenched quickly, and the longer he held the cloths against Legolas back, the less he felt of the elf's stirring as he struggled to breathe.

      ~Fight it,~ he muttered to the elf, ~You've gone this far.~

      The elf was by now completely slumped against his father, not carrying any of his weight at all.  His eyes however, remained open, retaining some dull, dimming awareness in them, and that was one relief despite the fact that they were narrow slits and dark-rimmed and sunken.

      With the help of the King, Estel lowered Legolas slowly to the table, lying him on his side.  His head lolled in a most unnatural fashion, and the very limpness of him was sending a serious blight upon Estel's hopes.  But his spirit will not be dimmed.

_      He was never one to despair.  He was never one to fear.  And tonight would not be the first time for him to have either of the two.  _

      When had he last thought of that? It sounded wildly familiar… 

_      Ah_, he realized.  That was days ago, though it could have been a lifetime ago, seeming so far away.  He was alone in Mirkwood, traveling on foot back to where he left Mithrandir.  He lost his tracks, the falling snow making everything so cold and gray.  And then Legolas came out of the woods and aided him.

      _Come out of the woods_, mellon, he begged, _Come out of the woods_.

* * *

      Legolas woke upon his own bed, knowing the exact smell and feel of it, even if the last of its memory had come from centuries ago.  He opened his eyes, and noticed that except for the burly human asleep on an old chair next to his bed, nothing was changed about his room at all.

      He smiled sleepily, the dull pain of his back, the dull pain of his past behind him, now a distant echo of what it once had been.  He has survived.  He was _here_.  He was home, under the strangest of circumstances (_and companions_!) that he could not have imagined.  Life was funny.

      He drifted back to sleep.

* * *

      In a few days, Legolas was once again on his feet and bounding around the palace, aided by an ornate cane he used only because it was either that or to stay in bed.  Estel accompanied him in his walks, and he would tell all these wild childhood stories, almost every artifact in the house reminding him of some misadventure.  Some parts of the palace he did not recognize at all, like new wings and remodeled rooms.  He would say with a little kind of sadness that 'this was not here before,' or perhaps 'this is new,' even if it were hundreds of years old.  

      He initially set out, finding joy in the smallest of recognizable things.  But the more new, changed things he found, the more new and changed people… he began to realize that this was no longer his world as much as he used to think it was.

      On one of these such walks along the same courtyard which he had fought his brother in nights before, he voiced out his worries to Estel, who had long since felt it coming by the thoughtful look of the elf.

      ~Everything is different,~ he said, pensive, ~And they are all looking at me differently.~

      ~Things change,~ Estel said wistfully, ~People change.~

      ~We are elves,~ argued Legolas, ~Things are supposed to be constant, strong and reliable and for ever.~

      ~Perhaps you just need some time,~ Estel suggested, ~You will come to know this place, and your people again.  And they will come to know you.~

      ~They are wary of me,~ Legolas said distastefully, ~As if my name was not already cleared in the most public of ways!~ he sighed, ~And yet I cannot fault them.  For all these ages I was their sole kinslayer.  Their one elf-villain.  This name is stained.  This entire crown is stained.  A dead mother, a murdered brother, a murderer brother, an exile.  They do not know to trust us, except for _ada_.  They do not know to trust me.  I am no King of theirs, Estel.  They will never take me.~

      ~Such is your right by birth,~ said Estel, ~They will take you, and follow you.~

      ~But I want to be their King,~ Legolas pointed out, ~Not their tyrant.~

      They walked quietly for some moments.

      ~I want to return to them a conquering hero,~ chuckled Legolas, ~Is that not a strange, ridiculous dream?~

      Estel's brows rose.  ~I've been told it is a path I might have to take.~

      Legolas smiled.  ~Of course.  It's because you are a strange, ridiculous man.~

      Estel laughed.  ~Well then perhaps you should start dreaming so as well, strange, ridiculous elf.~

      ~Perhaps I will,~ Legolas resolved, pausing, ~Your name suits you.~

      "I wish they called me 'Intelligence' instead," Estel laughed, switching tongues, "I suppose 'Hope' is best.  But 'Lucky' would have been even better."

      Legolas chuckled, "No, no.  Hope is good.  All those are nothing without 'Hope.'  They did well by you, _mellon_.  You certainly lent _me_ hope."

      Estel shook his head, embarrassed and touched and smiling, not really knowing what to say.  

      ~So you seek to reclaim your throne?~ Legolas asked.

      ~I am not certain what I seek,~ Estel admitted, ~I left Rivendell to be one among my own kind, for awhile.  To hone my skills, to distinguish myself on the field.  I'm not sure what I will ultimately be.  I only know to give what this land demands of us.  And with the gathering evil… it demands a lot.~

      ~It's a changing world,~ Legolas agreed.

      They walked in silence for a short while.

      ~I must be leaving soon,~ Estel said, ~I must return to Rivendell for awhile.~

      ~I know,~ said Legolas, ~I apologize.  I've waylaid you enough as it is.  Yet I find I wish you wouldn't leave.  You are my only brother left.~

      ~I'll lend you mine,~ Estel winked at him, wanting to take the downcast look from his eyes, ~You know, there's _two_ much of them to go around.~

      ~I heard that!~ Elrohir suddenly called out to them as the elf passed them by on his way to his quarters, ~Why don't you stay with Prince Legolas, Estel? At least here, you are actually _wanted._~

      ~You can be rather mean,~ Estel said, pretending to be stung, ~Good thing I do not take your harsh words to heart.  Why, I only think of how your eyes welled up the last time I was leaving for my journeys and my spirit swells.~

      Elrohir mumbled something inaudible, before vanishing into the halls.  Estel and Legolas laughed.

      ~You know,~ Estel said to Legolas, ~I set out towards Rivendell for a respite.  Instead I found you.  Curious, isn't it? How life unfolds?~

      Legolas smiled.  ~For whatever reason, I am glad I stole your horse, Estel.  You gave me back things I thought I lost completely.  Do not ever forget.  My life is yours.~

      ~I'll hold you to that,~ Estel chuckled.

      ~I am serious,~ Legolas insisted, ~Your cause is my own.~

      Estel smiled, shook his head at him in amusement.  ~I demand no such payment from you.~

      ~It is no payment,~ argued Legolas, ~It is my duty, for what you have given me.~

      ~Then consider it a gift,~ Estel said, ~And hence requires no returns.~

      ~Then consider this _my_ gift,~ said Legolas, ~Your cause is my own.  I will stand by you, Estel.  Wherever your road may take you.~

      Estel paused, trying to find something clever to say.  ~You are entirely too wily for your own good.~

      Legolas laughed, ~So you have met your match.~

      ~My cause is ridiculously long and nearly impossible,~ Estel confessed, ~I will not hold you to your word, for you do not know of what it is that you speak.~

      ~_Mellon_,~ said Legolas, ~You are right.  You speak in riddles.  I do not know what fate lies in wait of you.  But as you said, it is not a burden if more of us carry its weight.~

      Estel stared at him, marveling, and said nothing for a long while.  It was fine by Legolas, for he knew they both found meaning and pleasure in each other's company, even in silence.

      ~Well,~ said Estel, after a moment, ~I must be off.~

      ~No farewells,~ Legolas warned him quickly, ~I _detest_ being left behind.~

      Estel laughed.  ~All right.  I will see you soon?~

      ~Stay out of trouble,~ Legolas said.

      ~I'm sure that would be easy to do,~ laughed Estel, ~It being that you are here and we are going in the opposite direction.~

* * *

      He did very much hate farewells.  His father found him in his room, looking out of the window.  It was such an old scene that reminded Thranduil of the most hurtful of days, but this was also different in a lot of ways.  Strange how they were all back to where it was from which they left, and yet nothing was the same.

      Thranduil stepped forward, and Legolas looked up at him, smiling slightly.

      ~You really must get off your feet,~ the King told him gruffly, ~You are pushing it.  You look tired.~

      ~I'm fine, _ada_,~ insisted Legolas, ~Even happy.~

      ~You did not see your friends off,~ Thranduil said disapprovingly, looking out the window even as he knew that the three Rivendell brothers have long since passed from sight,  ~Impolite.~

      ~I'm sure they understand,~ said Legolas evenly, pausing in thought, before he asked, ~You have visited Legardo in his prison?~

      ~Yes,~ Thranduil replied.

      ~Did he say anything about me?~ Legolas asked softly, the idea of his brother a distinct pang in his heart.  To say Legardo was dead to him was far different than making it into reality.  

      Thranduil shook his head, ~I am sorry.~

      ~What will happen to him?~ Legolas asked.

      ~Imprisonment, most likely,~ replied Thranduil, ~Lesandro's death was an accident, after all, and he did not succeed in slaying you.~

      Legolas exhaled, slightly relieved.  He feared his brother would be executed.  But he actually wasn't sure which punishment was kinder.

      ~Are you all right?~ he asked his father.

      ~I always am,~ the King replied evasively.

      ~Truly,~ Legolas pressed.

      A moment of thought.

      ~I will be,~ Thranduil amended.

      Legolas nodded.  ~Good.~

      ~What else weighs upon your mind, my son?~ Thranduil asked after a brief moment.

      ~There are things that I wish to do,~ replied Legolas, ~when I get well.  You are doing well here, I can and must leave soon.  I have battles to fight, _ada_.  Debts to pay.  My word to redeem.  Blood to make worthy of the King's own.  A name to be made a credit to yours.~

      ~You have only just been restored to me,~ Thranduil said softly, ~I will not see you leave.~

      ~Yet I must,~ Legolas insisted.

      ~You are my heir,~ argued Thranduil, ~I will not allow you to plunge headfirst into danger.  Or if you must then do so here, within our own borders where your skills are needed.~  _And where you will not be too far from me_.

      ~And yet I cannot stay,~ said Legolas, ~I cannot, _ada_.  Our people are not ready for me.  I am not ready for them.  Mirkwood already has enough problems without having to deal with me.  I can best serve us elsewhere.  This is something I must do, independent of being your son.  But as this land's prince, I must make myself worthy of her.~

      ~You are worthy,~ said Thranduil, ~it is not your fault your name was dragged through the mud.~

      ~I cannot rule properly without the people's trust,~ Legolas said, shaking his head.  ~I must leave, _ada_.  This is my choice to make.~

      The King looked at his son dispassionately.

      ~That is a sign of defeat,~ Legolas teased him.

      ~We will need you back, eventually,~ Thranduil pointed out, ~I will not be a King here forever.~

      ~You won't?~ Legolas teased, willing to coax a smile out of his father, knowing he would bend, because he almost always did.

      ~Legolas,~ his father sighed, not quite knowing what else to say, ~curse your honor.  And curse your stubborn, stubborn head.~

      Legolas laughed, stepped forward to embrace his father.  He will leave soon.  His road will be long and arduous.  But he will not be alone, anymore.  And he will leave bearing his father's blessings (_even if it did come in the form of a curse_).  There were things to do.  Places to go.  

      _Battles to fight.  Debts to pay.  Promises to make truth.  Blood to make worthy of the King's own.  A name to be made a credit to yours._

"I'm not sure what I will ultimately be," Legolas said to his father, quoting Estel, "I only know to give what this land demands of us."

      "Then give we must," the King said softly.      

      Legolas buried his face against his father's robes, savoring the nearness of him.  And so Mirkwood had once again become for him a place that he must leave, but no longer just to escape.  He was headed places, and headed towards his own person.  It was ironic, how he had to leave so that he could return.  It was a looming future, yes, but for now, in his father's arms, he was home.  

January 13, 2004

AN ENDING.

**SOME IMPIRTANT NOTES**

On this story as the beginning of a trilogy.  I was working on two plots for LOTR that went one right after the other.  Since I'm a very uptight writer, I like a kind of 'round' feeling and decided to make it a trilogy instead of a pair of sequels.  So I went and wrote a 'how Aragorn and Legolas met' story, my second one, the first being "Allies (which was also the first of a trilogy)."  Before "Exile", I was already working on the stories that would happen after it, called "Escape" and the one after that, "Return."  Below are their respective plots:

"Escape" Estel struggles with his identity and his family when the elf Sayuno of Lothlorien, Arwen's long-lost bethrothed, returns after years of captivity. Escaping to his duties to avoid the pain of his lost love, Aragorn is fallen during a tour with the Rangers, and Legolas later finds him 'playing house' with a lonely widow from Bree-- without his memories and very much happily relieved of his noble burdens, making the elf hesitate to bring him back to who he truly was.

"Return" After the War of the Ring.  Legolas, still distinctly out of place in Mirkwood after his years of Exile, raises his own elven realm in Ithilien.  All is settled there until duty calls for the return of him and his soldiers to defend his old home from a rising new evil.  In Mirkwood, he finds himself finding the need to fight side by side with an old enemy… his murderous brother. 

They may or may not ever be posted, it depends on how much time I have in my hands.  School can be pretty tough so hopefully I'll find the time :) not in the near future though :)

On "Exile" I wrote it because I felt it was a feasible beginning of Aragorn and Legolas' friendship, and would give us an idea of the kind of loyalty that Legolas has for Aragorn, especially as we know it in the Lord of the Rings.  I also wanted to play with a quirky kind of circumstance, Legolas stealing Aragorn's horse.  I also thought it may be visually interesting to see this lonely elf in a forest, looking like a ghost.  

On Legolas.  Hands down, obviously my favorite character.  I like depicting him as a warrior, intelligent, skilled, with a fierce pride but also great charm.  I also noticed that he was really just different from the other elves.  Not as complacent.  Almost as petty and impulsive as a human.  "Exile" is trying to explore why.  He's been alone so long, he grew to respect and depend upon Aragorn, etc.  

On Estel.  A lot more youthful here than I wish, but like I always say, he's like a rock.  Steady, reliable Aragorn, king more than his blood.  Just a powerful character, I think, but also very clever.  I hope he came out that way.

The twins.  My first stories never used to feature them because it was a territory that I feared.  I did not know that much about them at all, but after awhile, the concept fascinated me.  So here they are, and they have been gracing my fics for quite some time now.  I think I've somehow made Elrohir out to be more impulsive.  I'm not sure.  I guess this is in keeping with my wanting to create distinct identities between them.  I hope it's not unimaginable.  

On Legolas and Aragorn.  I have a soft spot for depicting their friendship.  There's just a dynamic here that I can't easily put my finger on; I'm just helplessly dazzled by it.  I mean, there's great contrast between them, but they are also very much alike.  There's great camaraderie here, a brotherhood, kindred-thing going.  I hope this rubs off on my fics too.  I love writing fics about their friendship, and of my works I have a soft spot for "Estel."  It's not my most popular fic, but there's a quiet intimacy about it, an understanding.  I don't know.  It's a mystery, haha.  I wanted "Exile" to create a believable foundation for that great friendship that we've read in the books and have seen in the movies.  I slipped in a movie line there too, "Your friends are with you," except of course in my fic, it is in the singular and Estel said it to Legolas, not the other way around, just a kind of reminder of this objective of my fic.  Notice also how, when Legolas allows Estel into his life, from that point of the fic onwards, he is called 'Estel' and not 'Strider' as he was in the first few parts.

On Thranduil.  Stern, but also loving.  I figured if Legolas was such a well-raised elf, then his _ada_ should not be too far off.  Throughout this fic, I kept making a distinction between Thranduil as a King and as a father and how he juggles both.  He is a strong character, a very prideful one.  I wanted him to appear as having strength with all his passions and convictions; his work, his loves, etc.

On Gandalf.  He did not play a very big role here, but I always saw him as a kind of 'mover' of events, just like an Istari is supposed to be.  I also thought it would be fun to show an earlier version of him pretending to be an old man, as he did in "The Two Towers."

On Legolas' Family.  I've long since had an interest in writing about this.  Mirkwood is such a mysterious, intriguing place and its royal family more so.  What kind of people could they have been to have given us an elf of Legolas' caliber? I decided on a mix of the bad and the good, and I also decided not to give everything outright.  His mother is dead but all we know of her (from my fic, I mean) is that she was beautiful and extremely well-mannered, the dead Lesandro like her.  And then there's the mighty Thranduil.  And like most families, the black sheep Legardo, whom I could not resist but want to get back in "Return (which may or may not come out)."  Of course, I do not know enough of elvish to give them names that actually have meanings, so I just tried to come up with names that invoked this certain 'feeling.'  

On the Murder plot.  I hope it wasn't too confusing or that there aren't any great massive holes.  I guess I'm fascinated by the idea of crime and its place in ME, where it could possibly fit.  I also played with the idea of pride and jealousy and just mad desire.  I figured there had to be a little of those in everybody.

On the Ending.  And so once again Legolas had to leave.  Did it make sense why? He felt he would only be in the way in Mirkwood, for they were already having enough trouble without having to deal with a group of royals trying to wrest a kingdom from each other.  I figured also this would be why he goes off with the fellowship and along his other quests with Estel; out of the word he made to be by his side, and out of wanting to give his service to ME, and also to redeem his name so that he can return to his home as a hero. 

On my reviewers.  I'm so sorry for not replying to your questions and comments after each chapter.  I hope this doesn't imply that your support has no weight to me because on the contrary, this actually means that I value it more; I know it may seem like neglect but really, there's a reason for it.  As you may have seen from my other works, I've never had this much reviews before.  My old practice was to just answer everything at the end, since there really wasn't that much to have to answer to.  I never thought I'd get 300 reviews.  I never thought I'd get 100! So I'm just really overwhelmed and trying to adjust my habits.  So I'm sorry for the inconvenience of you guys having to wait so long for answers and getting them all in this big rush! Lesson learned, I promise, and will be rectified if I should write more in the future :) So.  Reviewer responses :) Here goes:

Thanks to the following who sent such great encouraging remarks: caunoiech, mirrowa, korie, goofy, amazon, angelbird12241, astievia, aurienia, darkangel36, faceless stalker, grumpy, hebe, jayda, jessie, jinx, jo, kurafoxgirl, ladylanet, legolaslover 2004, maiden of imladris, me, mellowyellow36, merowen,miss attitude, MJ, moonshadowed, obsidian wingrider, rings of Saturn, rogue souls, samantha, sammy3, silent cobra, snitch, the serious pad-foot, theodered prince, the vampire resika, justeenh, aelan, cowgoddess, marauder-luver4ever, tmelange, arayelle lynn, maria Christina, mj rosemary, randomramblings, silvertoekee, konzen, Vanessa, riva van dyk, dragonfly32, joee1, michelle, wadeva, wondertross, miss maru, jkay, eboni, pua lahi lahi, :D, lady light, silv3rrang3l, drew'sgirl and gwyn :) You guys, you just gimme so much joy.  I love working for these reviews.  THANK YOU SO SO MUCH!!! :) I hope you'll look out for my other works next time and that they won't disappoint.  THANK YOU!!!

To ainu laire: you reviewed practically all my chapters!!! THANK YOU!!! And you're right, there are no original elvish names in my fic because I don't know any :) sorry :) I guess I just settled with names that 'feel' they can belong in the world created by Tolkien :) I hope it wasn't too bad! :) btw, belated happy birthday and I'm sorry my fun jailbreak scene confused you :)  

To alexa: I have a fan?! Wow! THANKS! So kind of you to say so! Thanks for giving my fic your time and attention :)

To bballstar42: I really do work on the characterizations and I'm so happy you like how they turned out :) thanks also for appreciating my quick updates cos I certainly try to make 'em quick! :)

To blackraven1: thanks for the review! Actually, though, I try to go for a mix of the book and movie version of Legolas :)

To cosmic castaway: I'm not cruel to Legolas, really! ;)

To crystal rose 15: glad you like my interpretation of the characters.  I really try my hardest to develop them without straying too far from how they are generally perceived :)

To deana: thank you for always reviewing.  I'm glad you like my stuff :) THANK YOU SO MUCH and I hope I never disappoint you :)

To devie saves: I'm glad you appreciate the characterization because I work really hard on it :)

To dragonfly: you're right, I do wish ppl post faster but I guess sometimes my quality suffers too.  Oh well.  To each his own, as long as we all end up having nice fics :)

To elessar* lover: thank you for reviewing almost all my chapters.  I'm glad you liked my story :)

To elvendancer: haha, I get the same feeling! (that whenever I start reading a fic ppl take longer to finish it).  I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long :)

To emeraldwolf: thanks! I actually enjoy portraying a very strong, warrior-like, passionate Legolas.  I write what I love and I'm glad my interpretations agree with yours :) 

To farflung: my most diligent reviewer! THANK YOU!!! thank you for your fun summaries of my chapters :) makes me wonder if you have like a word program on every time you read :) thank you for the effort! I'm glad you like my fic :) btw, you guessed the murderer early on! :)

To icemage1014: I guess you found out by now it isn't a slash.  I don't write about things that I am not sure I can give a fair representation of (out of respect and fairness) so I'm staying my ground on non-slash until I find the courage and the capability to do otherwise.  My older fics from other 'realms' started out this way too before I could write slash.  I don't want to misrepresent them, see.  maybe one of these days :) 

To jenzy: thanks for reading and reviewing.  Every single review counts :) especially since I never used to get very many.  I'm extremely overwhelmed by the support.  Thanks for putting in yours :)

To keithan: wow, thank you! I'd love to think characterization was my strong point too.  I work very hard on not making them veer away from how they are perceived but also to develop them in my own way.  Thanks! :)

To kit cloudkicker: you guessed the guilty murderer very early on! :)

To lani lalaith: thanks for reading :) and yup, your guess was very much correct :)

To Lucien tanbik: sorry I haven't had the chance to email you when I update.  I'll certainly do so soon if you haven't read this by now :) elswenlucas@hotmail.com

To lulu bell: THANK YOU for always reviewing and sorry if I was incredibly lax at answering to them.  I believe I gave the reason why before this flurry of responses :) To answer your question from before, actually, there's no big secret :) I often post parts when I've written at least a chapter or two after it already, so i can always post and work shortly afterwards.  I never post unless I think I can finish because I'm a fic reader and I guess I always think about how frustrated I am to keep waiting for updates, etc. so you know, do not do to others what you do not want them to do to you thing, i always post quickly and i always, always finsish :) i'll never post a fic i don't think i can finish :) that's my only rule :) and yes, i do love to write :)  Thank you for calling me a posting author machine, haha! I certainly try :)

To lyn: I'm glad you like the humor.  While I can hardly claim to be witty or funny, I certainly try to infuse what wit I think a character has :)

To minka: thanks for reading and am happy you find the fic ok :) your guesses and reasons are right on the money! :)

To mirovour: thanks, haha! Your glowing words really, really do inspire :)

To nav: wow, thank you :) I certainly try my best to give a fair characterization :)

To nerfenherder: I hope I got you all the whole story in good time :) I'm glad you appreciate the characters, I really work to keep them developed but also still distinctly recognizable :)

To nickole: I'll email you how to post in a few days J sorry to keep you waiting.  I just have tons to do J

To nightshade3: and more it is! I hope you liked it :) I did very much try to get Estel's charm out in this one.  What a fun, strong character to write :) and I'm sorry to keep ending with cliffhangers.  I guess it just feels kind of… well, 'right' to have 'em as 'cuts' between parts :)

To pie: oh, did your guesses come out right.  And you picked up practically all my cues! :)

To pigborn: glad the last few parts redeemed the seemingly disappointing ones! :) and wow, you read my other stuff? Thank you! :) 

To platy: no, I haven't died :) my review counter!!! Well I certainly took your advice pacing this one :) and I hope you are not as dissatisfied with the length of this one as you were with my other short pieces :) yup, I think ppl do write about this plot 'cos of the tons of possibilities.  hope you found mine feasible and fun :)

To port: we're alike, I hate waiting! I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long! :) and yes, your guess was correct :)

To rainydayz: wow, thanks! I really do work on the characterization so I'm glad you appreciate it :)

To rhonnie: thanks! Glad you did find fanfiction and that are having a great time :)

To roper: I did check your story out but I did not have as much time with it as I would want.  I liked what I've seen so far, and will definitely make a more coherent review after I get to sit down with it at length.  I'm glad my fic inspired you :) I never thought i'd get to inspire anyone! thanks for taking the time for my fic! :)

To ryoko lasgalen: I want a coat that smells like Legolas too, haha! 

To snuffles 2: a master of dialogue? Wow! Thank you! I certainly try to do justice by the characters we borrow :)

To sorrow: haha, thank you for getting my reviews up to 200++.  I never even thought I'd get to 100! Thank you :)

To starre1: ur right, no one writes like tolkien.  But I guess what I'm trying to do is at least try my best to be worthy of borrowing his fantastic creations.  I'm glad you think that I'm doing reasonably well.  Thank you so much :) it means a lot! :)

To stoneage woman: I thought "Exile" would get to be compared to 'allies' eventually :) thanks, I do hope to get better at each post :)  and yes, the deathlike sleep is drawn from the very fascinating idea of the great Shakespeare.  And thank you so incredibly much for your helpful criticism and your time :) I know my work is far from perfect but I certainly took the extra time to proof-read with you in mind :)

To twnlakeshgrl: I think you're the second to guess who was the actual murderer :) aren't whodunnits lots of fun? :) and I do reply to reviewers, I do! Just a bit late this time 'cos I never used to get so much reviews.  So sorry! I'll be more diligent next time, i just hope my laxness this time doesn't discourage reviewers :)

To tychen: I do kind of pride myself on the quick posting bit.  My last few parts lagged a bit, but I hope it was not too bad! :)

To yegods!: haha, I did update eventually :)

To YBR: glad to see you are no longer having much trouble reviewing :) Thanks for the encouragement and support!!! :)

So just a big, gigantic massive THANKS!!! To everyone who read and to everyone who reviewed.  I'm really very overwhelmed because I've never had such a response before.  As a matter of fact, I was really fearing posting anything after I wrote "Tempus Edax Rerum" because I thought I'll never be able to write something that can reach so many people again (and back then I had less than a hundred reviews).  So THANK YOU.  It was really encouraging.  When I began "Exile" I thought it would take me forever to finish it.  But everyone's been so encouraging and everytime I finish a part I'm just so excited for people to read it.  so THANK YOU.  I can't say it enough! THANK YOU!!! I hope you weren't disappointed with the ending :)


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